Survivor
by BardWisp
Summary: This was supposed to be an ordinary errand. Until they find themselves in a completely twisted situation.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Survivor

**Author: **BardWisp

**Pairing: **Kahlan/Cara

**Word Count: **4,427

**Warnings: **Implied character death.

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing here.

**Summary: **This was supposed to be an ordinary errand. Until they find themselves in a completely twisted situation.

**A/N1: **This is a sort of vague post-Tears ordeal.

**A/N2: **English is not my first tongue. And this is my first fic ever. So, be critical, but be a gentle one.

* * *

**Survivor**

**- I -**

Cara had accomplished similar tasks before.

It was simple, really – push forward, break the tip, pull back. So many times, in fact, that it did not make sense that she had been so embarrassingly… excited by doing so with Kahlan; knowing it would've most certainly caused the other woman a significant amount of pain during and after the process if she were to be awake was as thrilling a sensation as it was disturbing.

She frowned at her own train of thought; she did not want Kahlan to hurt. Sure she didn't, for the woman wasn't helpful at all – the Confessor would've likely fainted just like she did that one time when Cara had used her Agiel to close her wounded thigh – but even so. Well, she did care for the Confessor; it was a matter of fact to the Mord'Sith by now. It was not a thing to be thinking it over and over. It was just that, a simple misstep of life.

And of course, in the end it went as good as it could be considering the circumstances.

Cara squinted down at Kahlan's still form and sighed.

The Confessor was still asleep, lying on her left side with floppy arms and her legs snuggled between the Mord'Sith's knees, and hopefully she did not get to witness one second of the process in which Cara had successfully managed to push, break the arrowhead and pull the rod out of her lower back, all awhile battling the impulse to... Her frown deepened.

"This is ridiculous." She huffed, shaking her head as she discarded the bloody stick.

The Mord'Sith felt something in her chest constrict when the woman beneath her made the softest noise, as though she had been sensing Cara's anxiety all the time, as if she was trying to communicate. The sound stirred the Mord'Sith into action again. She began to untie the laces of Kahlan's corset and, as the dark leather loosened enough, she tugged it up a little and began to clean up the blood-marred spots and embalm the twins wounds as best as she could with the press of time, and then wrapped the woman's lower back in bandages – those she spared in her own pack. The ones she found in Kahlan's, Cara used to drape over the nasty slash across the Confessor's left thigh and to band her wounded forehead.

When she finished retying the laces, the Mord-Sith took the Confessor's daggers and sheathed them back in her boots. She did the same with her own weapons, tucking them into the holsters now loosely knotted on her left thigh, putting her gloves back on carelessly.

Cara then bound their backpacks together, tying their straps to create an elongated one which she threw round her neck to cross her back, all the time keeping a watchful eye on the surroundings. The long strap was slung over the Mord-Sith right shoulder so that Kahlan's pack was dangling in front of her knee and, with the way the leash slid across Cara's leathered-clad back she tied it to her holsters, and thus her own pack became a pendulum by her left side.

It seemed unpractical to do so, as it was additional cargo, but she could not let the packs behind, for all their food, water and healing salves were secured in them and, moreover, she could not afford having Kahlan hurt like this, thirsty and starving at the same time.

Plus, she was not so sure if she would manage it back to this meadow and collect their things in her current physical state.

Cara did not even know if she could make it to get Kahlan out of this cursed valley, as she kneeled and bent in front of the Confessor, taking the unconscious woman in her arms and lifting her upper body carefully until Kahlan's front folded inward and over Cara's sore shoulders.

Her injured thigh protested loudly with the effort it took, but Cara managed to stand and lock her knees, before bending slightly forward so that she could support most of the weight on her legs; they were very strong legs, even if one was barely alive by then.

Cara was hurt, badly so. She knew the limits of her body.

But she _would_ cross them if needed be. She was Mord'Sith, after all.

"Perhaps I am becoming soft," she grumbled to herself, "A little," an afterthought.

A tremulous sigh was her response.

She got in line and hurry she did as the mantle of the night settled heavily over them.

* * *

_The shot that hit Kahlan had come from behind, where Cara should be protecting the Confessor's back if she herself had not been caught by the rough blade of that mammoth of a man the minute earlier._

_She had shifted her stance at the last moment possible and the blow missed most of its intent. Still, the sharp edge slipped under her arm and cut past her leather, slicing her left side to the ribs. That was when she felt a kick to her midsection and staggered backwards. Though Cara managed not to fall, she dropped her guard momentarily and, as the momentum followed, she saw as the huge sword whirled in the air, aiming to split her skull in half. _

_And then dark spots danced before her eyes. _

_In the faint, bluish dusk light Cara felt more than saw as the dull whistle by her left side brought a sharp jolt of pain to her head. She could hardly adjust her focus to determine what was happening, for next the swarm of black flying sticks raced toward her, a flurry of death surging from where the fog was thicker around the meadow; from the obscured tree line to which Kahlan had her back turned. _

_They arrows flew, swishing past her ears and through her body until she fell onto her knees with a grunt of pain, her Agiels gripped tightly in her fists by her sides. _

_With an animalistic howl, the man who had been about to finish her off slumped to the ground and his sword, the end of it glistening red, fell next to Cara, as did the dozens of the brutes that were charging them not but a moment ago. Some of the men hit the grass already dead while others writhed on the ground, agonizing for a swift end that would not come. _

_Cara hadn't had the time to register what was going on yet, only vaguely remembered hearing a distinct sound above all others, a womanly cry, when she had tumbled to the ground. _

_Her blood ran cold as a faint whisper crossed her lips, "Kahlan."_

_Cara spun around and began to lope. _

_Only then she realized that there were four bloody shafts protruding from her front; three were rooted in her upper body and one into her right thigh. _

_She did not care. _

_She felt something warm leaking from the top left side of her head and as it slid into her eye, her senses clouding with sudden sickness, she stumbled sideways. Bile rose to her throat with what her not obscured eye was seeing five strides afar. _

_Kahlan had been felled. _

_The Mother Confessor was lying with her face downed into a pond of blood and dirt, daggers loosely grasped in her fingers and arms gone limp at her sides. _

_Cara saw that one lasting bastard arching his stance, both hands raising the sword above his head to deliver the blow that would end the Mother Confessor's life._

_Time slowed to a deafening cadence, and then it all came crashing down as something both dark and liberating surged into the Mord-Sith._

_With an enraged shout Cara jumped to her feet and launched herself onto the giant man. Her right shoulder slammed into his midsection and they both crashed onto the ground paces away from the felled Confessor. _

_A tangled mess of hissing Agiels and cries of utmost misery ensued and then there was nothing but stillness._

* * *

_Cara crawled on her right side; it was all she could do with the arrows still achingly pierced into her front. When she reached the other woman she kneeled beside her, dropping her Agiels as she did, and as gently as she could she turned Kahlan's head to the side so the woman could breathe. The Mord-Sith's fingers went immediately to her neck, feeling for the pulse of life there. _

_It was faint, but there; a constant beat animating the fragile skin under her gloved fingertips._

_Relieved beyond words, and despite herself, Cara smirked down at the prone woman. _

"_Not so easy to kill, are we?"_

_But then grimaced as she brushed dark locks of hair aside and saw the bloodied cut on the side of the Confessor's dirty face, its purplish swelling marring the skin above her right temple, near the hairline. That was what had rendered Kahlan unconscious, just after that one arrow pierced her on the right side of her lower back; it also had kept the Confessor from meeting a swift death with all those arrows shooting around, Cara assumed with a frown. _

_Pursing her lips, Cara steeled herself as she eyed the long projectile jutting from Kahlan's back, then glared down at the ones into her own body. _

_Without further thought, the Mord-Sith ripped off the arrow in her thigh first; the most urgent to pull off and seemingly the most troublesome at the same time. She suspected it had nipped at some important blood vessel, for it was starting to pour out rather hastily from the resultant wound. _

_She pressed her right hand down against torn leather and flesh while her other hand yanked out the arrow bellow her right ribs; the other one that had plunged into her belt, a little to the left on her belly, came off as swiftly. These had not reached too deep, being the less damaging; or so the Mord-Sith assumed._

_Clumsily, Cara then undid her belt and fastened it as a tourniquet around her injured thigh to try and keep the bleed at bay. _

_The Mord'Sith ignored the last arrow in her left shoulder for the moment; she knew it would require a more cautious maneuvering to be removed. _

_Most obstacles from her body dealt with, she leaned a little forward as her left gloved palm splayed firmly against the blood-damp black leather covering Kahlan's back, her thumb and forefinger angling with the arrow rod. Her other hand that had been on her bleeding thigh came to her mouth and she bit the tip of her middle finger, easing the glove off. Then, fisting her hand around the wooden shaft, she gave it a tentative, but solid pull._

_Nothing. _

_Cara released the breath she had been holding in an annoyed huff._

_The arrowhead was stuck._

_She thanked whatever Spirits that protected Confessors that Kahlan was not conscious, or else she would be experiencing an awful moment in a little while._

_Sitting back on her heels, she pulled her other glove off as she took in her surroundings. Several corpses were tossed about in various crude positions and the smell of death already tainted the air. _

_Those things had come from nowhere; too many and too fast as they were._

_She wondered what those creatures were, because there was no way they could be human. They looked like men and even fought as such, albeit their vestment were composed of rustic tattered skins and ill-tanned furs, and they had acted much more like bloodthirsty beasts than anything else when they had attacked, seemingly materializing out of thin air and moving faster than their over muscled forms and towering height would have permitted. Cara even had a few marks and rips of teeth along her clad arms. Yes, the bastards had dared to bite her. _

_Banelings would have been a better sight, as they were predictable. But then again, the veil being repaired a mere fortnight ago already prevented the condemned souls from coming back to the land of the living, and had sent the rest of the dammed right back into the deeps of the Underworld. _

_So what of those beasts? What if there were more of them milling about? And where in the Keeper's name had those arrows come from? Had the brutes actually fired their own comrades in the hopes of killing the two of them along? If so, where were the archers now? _

_She did not have any interest to know, anyways._

_The only thing that mattered now was taking Kahlan away from that cursed place as soon as possible. _

_Cara grasped the middle of the arrow planted into her shoulder, her darkened green eyes still seeking through the mist as she pulled experimentally. With a snap and a gasp, it gave in under her fingers. The rod had likely cracked when she struggled with the lasting brute aiming for Kahlan's life; the tip of it remained buried deep into her breast muscle and a hand span of the rod still linked to the arrowhead would be the painful reminder until she got the Mother Confessor to a safer location. _

_But then again, she had never held qualms in bearing the damage already fated to her body._

* * *

Cara felt her sight blurring suddenly as the memories of that afternoon flirted with her weary thoughts and she paused for a moment.

Breathing in deep, she exhaled a gust of warm air.

The resulting pallid wisp dissipated before her clouded eyes like a mocking ghost.

That was when her ears caught the pained, almost inaudible whimper that came from behind her. They were increasing, these distressed sounds the Confessor was making. She shifted her feet, careful not to cause any more pain to the other woman and knowing it would even so, as she tried to raise her head to see if there was some clean area further on, or at least a crease on the rocky wall she had been following for the past hour.

She needed to stop. Urgently.

But it was dark, she could barely see three paces ahead of her. Worst, it was too cold and frustratingly muddy in those eerie forests. If she was one given to superstitions, she would swear these woods had eyes and fingers, and rather ominous lingering ones, for the hair on the back of her neck had been bristling since she grudgingly entered this valley earlier that afternoon. That sensation coupled with the howling noises coming from the trees every now and then was of no comfort to say the least. As it were, being surrounded by those unforgiving nettles and the strangely lookalikes trees she had ever come across with had the Mord-Sith on the brink of screaming in anger and frustration.

Chastising herself for this moment of weakness, Cara gulped in another lungful of air, slowly, trying to center herself, but this time a wet sizzle in her chest brought up a metallic tang to her tongue.

Just as a heavy drop landed on her forehead, and then another on her nose.

Cara looked skywards, _glared _deaths toward endless grayness_, _then tried to peer down at the deep aching split on her left side bellow her ribs, only being able to see the piece of the arrow rod still lodged into her shoulder, mere inches above her heart.

She cursed under her breath.

Cara knew she had to find shelter and do it quickly.

She picked up her urgent yet cautious pace down the narrow clammy trail alongside the rock face.

As for her predicament, a rainy moonless sky in an gloomy forest inhabited by ravenous beasts was all she did not need in this night; but alas, the Creator had provided her precisely with such scenario along with the task of saving the life of one Mother Confessor, who currently was a half deaden weight on the Mord-Sith's shoulders, with her dark head and left arm hanging limply behind Cara, the other arm captive by the blonde while her long legs were kept under the firm clasp of the Mord'Sith's right arm.

_I've faced worse odds before. I can do it,_ Cara assured herself as she stepped aside of a puddle of mud – her right thigh cringing painfully as she did –, or so it looked like mud.

But the thing was that she hadn't had much to lose those times besides her own life, which by all means had been forfeited since she was a child.

Now, carrying this woman, the heavy meaning of this woman on her shoulders, made Cara feel a foreign pressure behind her eyeballs, made her think that perhaps she could be something other than what she had been twisted into, the monster she had been for almost her entire life; something beyond the tool of pain and faultless killer.

She could be more, for this woman alone she knew she could be. If only Cara could ignore the terrifying fact that the warm slick liquid slipping away at each step she took meant less time to even be that which she was; the dark crimson soaking her skin and torn leathers that was her own life mingled with Kahlan's.

She was bearing the weight of the world on her back, in more ways than one, and it was breaking her apart not only physically.

And she _could_ _not _break; she _had _to stay alive, if only to fight this one last battle.

Or else Kahlan would die.

Cara would not allow that.

The taste of blood had always felt sweet on her tongue.

"Not today," She murmured to the cold night air as she pulled Kahlan's right arm more firmly against her chest.

* * *

It seemed that the Creator was testing her faith, or more accurately trying her patience, for the Deity had presented the miracle but it was about sixty-five wide paces ascending into a tapered bifurcation of the trail, up to a pebbly pathway covered with slime that gave way – she hoped so – to what seemed to be salvation.

Cara had spotted it when a lightning crashed into the skies a quarter of an hour ago; by the time she reached the cavernous spot rain was pouring down with a hungriness Cara had only witnessed once before, when they were traveling to the Palace of the Prophets to find Richard.

She shook the disquieting memories off as she gingerly dropped to one knee, the muscles of her thighs quaking with overexertion as she lowered a soaked Kahlan onto the even stony ground in front of the horizontal slit that apparently was the only way in and out of the hollowed stone wall.

She then proceeded to warily drag the prone Confessor, their packs and herself further into its humid interior, which was lower than she had predicted. Cara had to keep on her knees to try and move inside of the dim place, but it provided asylum and all that mattered now was keeping Kahlan at least mostly dry and warm.

Her eyes were losing their focus again so Cara felt with her gloved fingers, attempting to find Kahlan's legs and, finding them, she grabbed the back of the Confessor's knees and carefully rearranged the position of the sleeping woman so that Kahlan rested mainly on her left side, facing the cave's entrance.

The Confessor had got a deep cut that crossed from the outside and down to the front of her left thigh, ending just above the knee-cap, but that was not the cause of Cara's concern right now. Her worry was for the internal damage the arrowhead had caused.

With a numbing mind and rigid fingers, she hurried to get Kahlan out of her soaked clothes.

* * *

About two hours, perhaps more.

That was the time she took to get Kahlan here, to this helpless hole. It was oppressive and dark and too low; the only light came from the roaring flashes of lightning outside. But by then, she had no say in the matter. Cara was only grateful that the cave was out of inhabitants, been it animal or not.

She had to arrange to a fire, though.

The sharp throbbing on her left shoulder had become a dull ache, where the piece of wood remained cooped in. Her middle's and leg's wounds were in no better odds, as they had likely wasted most of her blood already.

She felt dormant.

Cara had considered using her Agiels to close the wounds, but she feared the intense added pain would get her unconscious and therefore she would be of no help to Kahlan. It would have to be done the old way, if only she had the time.

As she fingered the slash on the side of her head she felt like she might faint, her whole body shuddered in a nauseating wave.

She was cold, soaked to the bones and would not last long enough. She had lost too much blood and her lung was without doubt impaired.

Sitting as she was beside the unaware Confessor, trying to reclaim her breath and the use of her limbs, back to the hard cold stonewall, Cara looked with barely open eyes at the twitching lines of the Mother Confessor's frame; between bolts of white-blue light she could see only her pale face for she had wrapped Kahlan in a bundle of blankets and bedrolls. She could see her eyeballs as they flickered behind closed lids; the morbid pallor on the Confessor's face only adding to the tormented look on Cara's own semblance.

She knew Kahlan's body was fighting that which her own could not. Not any longer.

But still she did, Cara would keep fighting. For her.

And so she fought to her hands and knees and, turning to the left, she crawled towards the cave's mouth.

She had seen a few twigs by there when she arrived, perhaps it would be enough to start a sparkle with her Agiels.

Four stricken lopes later and her hand reached out, grabbing one. She fisted it until it crumbled.

Rotten.

A sudden, violent cough took her breath away and blood spilled from her mouth onto the wet black pebbles beneath.

She fisted another. Rotten. All of them were… rotten.

Cara's arms gave in and her forehead slammed down onto the tiny rounded stones as her body convulsed with harsh coughs, the brusque movements against the ground plugging the piece of arrow further in as she tried to regain control over her body and failed miserably.

Tried not to cry and cry she did, "No…" She moaned lowly between shaking breaths.

"Cara?"

Her heartbeat faltered in prelude.

Slowly, her head turned to the side; cheek sliding over slime, spit and blood. Cara tried to focus her hazy eyes on a face bathed in shadows and found she could not. Thunder exploded somewhere to her right, but she barely registered it, for her ears had gone numb as well. Her entire body had by now.

"I'm here." She croaked after a moment.

"Cara, do it. Kill me." Came the urgent plea.

Crumbled to the ground as she was Cara sobbed in anguish. How could Kahlan ask that of her? _Again_?

"Please. I'm... It's the only way to… save us both."

She closed her eyes at that. Cara had promised herself long ago that she would die before letting this happen. And here she was, for all her intents doing exactly that.

Dying and letting Kahlan die.

"No. Not like this." She refused, her voice hoarse, defeated.

"You must do it. I need you to."

Silence was her response.

And more silence.

"Cara? Are you there? Please, answer me!" Her voice sounded shallow, panicked even.

It was not like Kahlan to sound frail like this, to be _frail_ like this. And Cara hated how it pained her listening to this, listening to the truth of Kahlan's words.

"Spirits… Cara. Talk to me, please."

The Mord'Sith said nothing, forcing herself back on her knees, and started to creep toward the darkness.

Blindingly, she bared a hand and reached out with wobbly fingers, touching a cold forehead, a paled cheek.

"No, Kahlan."

"Why?"

"Just… can't."

"You can. You will. And then I'll take care of you. We'll be fine, Cara. Do it."

The Mord'Sith felt the staccato rhythm of those words being breathed on her naked palm; they were warm and full of hope and she could not swallow them, for they were like cinder in her throat.

How could Kahlan speak like that now, so confident while Cara was already breaking apart with what she was about to do. With what she _had _to do.

To save her. To save Kahlan.

"Too late… for me…" She whispered erratically, pulling an Agiel free and holding it with numb gloved fingers, the yielding hum of it filling the chilled and suddenly still air. Her other hand slid down Kahlan's face, fumbled to her chest and, as slender cool fingers found her own there, squeezing in reassurance, Cara made the hardest decision of her life.

"But not…" And her Agiel screamed for her, a hairsbreadth from taking Kahlan's life with its burning touch. "... without you…" Cara lowered her face down and down until her cooled, bloody lips brushed Kahlan's bluish and parted ones, the Confessor's eyes widening in shock and pain as she stared into the depths of Cara's dulled ones, "…knowing the truth about..."

As chilly darkness claimed her senses, the only thought in Cara's mind was that her last breath in this world couldn't have been more glorious.

Kahlan would live.

* * *

**To be continued?**

**(I'd need a beta to do so. Volunteers?)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: **Survivor

**Author: **BardWisp

**Pairing: **Kahlan/Cara

**Word Count: **3,550

**Warnings: **Character death.

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing here.

**Summary: **This was supposed to be an ordinary errand. Until they find themselves in a completely twisted situation.

**A/N1: **I'm sincerely grateful for all the comments. I'll try to be more regular about updates. That being said, be prepared. This one is sad.

**A/N2: **Special gratitude to Cloud Auditore Fair, my lovely beta.

* * *

**Survivor**

**- II -**

_She felt it coming._

_The burning of skin, an all-consuming pain exploding in her chest. A multitude of shades blurring her sight as it rushed through her veins with a devastating force. Her heartbeat increasing, slowing, halting before a warm blinding light spread out and engulfed her entire being. Setting her free. _

_It _hurt_. _

_Then, all of a sudden, it ceased; the pain, the light, everything. _

_There were no green flames, though, nor did the Good Spirits come to greet her. Only blackness. And then a familiar voice calling her name. _

"_Mama?" Kahlan heard the sound of her own voice echoing through endless void and turned around frantically. _

_She could not see; not her own body, not a thing, only dull murkiness. But she had heard a voice, her Mother's voice. She was sure of it, if nothing else. _

"_It's not the time yet." Her Mother's voice reverberated strangely in the dark, startling the Confessor somewhat. "You have to go back."_

"_I don't want to. I, I want to be with you."_

"_She's the one calling for you. She needs you, Kahlan."_

"_I won't leave your side again, Mama." _

_Kahlan didn't understand. Who needed her? Was she dreaming? She couldn't remember. All things had lost their meaning in this place save for her Mother's kind voice. _

"_You'll soon remember." Her Mother said, as if sensing her confusing, "Now go back, my child." _

"_Remember what? And to where should I go?"_

"_To breathe. To life, Kahlan."_

* * *

Once upon a time she was a carefree child. Full of dreams and blissfully unaware of the darkness lurking about, disguised as compassion and justice – she simply adored her Father.

And she loved her Mother so much that she used to cry her eyes out when her Mama would go missing for more than a couple of hours, but then she would remember it was her responsibility to take care of her little sister, as her Mother instructed her to. Her Mother's words, it was all that mattered when she was a four and a half year old.

It was on the day she had almost drowned in a lake near her house that things began to change.

The lake's waters were dark as midnight and she had underestimated its depth, just as she did with its pitfalls in the form of smooth, slippery rocks. She'd been so confident that she would be safe stepping on their inviting solidity.

Her Mother, a guide of unwavering wisdom and gentle strength, told little Kahlan that she should take that unfortunate episode as a lesson. A lesson in how life was for a Confessor.

"_We are survivors, Kahlan. Life is not something just granted to us without a cause. We have to choose wisely, to be deserving of it. But very often, choosing will be harder for the ones like us, so we have to fight. I want you to fight with every fiber of your being, with each breath that you take, my little one. Even when it gets too dark and frightening, don't stop fighting and always go to that which makes your heart beat faster and more alive than it was the moment before."_

Kahlan had never truly understood the meaning of her Mother's words then.

Now, she did.

And whilst the remembrances of the treasured days of her innocence began to fade away, her foggy mind connected with reality again. She remembered how to breathe.

"_Breathe, Kahlan._ _Breathe."_

And breathe she did. Drinking in the warmth of that distant voice invading her mouth, Kahlan held onto the thin thread of hope like she did all those years ago. As she sucked it into greedy lungs like a shipwrecked man would. She was so hungry for it, devoured it all until her eyes snapped open wide, tingling with renewed sight.

She found herself staring into darkness again, only it was not an amorphous one this time, but a dripping stoned blackness charged with the scent of blood and rain.

She was back in the cave.

A roaring sound could be heard coming from somewhere to her left.

The skies were going to turn out into oceans, she wondered, still somewhat dizzy.

Suddenly, her body jerked up, trying to stir off the fog of inertia on its own volition.

She could not move, though. Something was weighing her down and the pointy thing stabbing at the swell of her right breast told her it was more than her own weakness preventing her from rising.

A gasp left her as she felt it, the feathery touch of full lips on the curve of her neck made her shiver at their unexpected coolness.

Then it came to her, "Cara."

Leaning on her right elbow with some effort, she struggled to disentangle her upper body from the warm cocoon of blankets she was wrapped in, where she'd been lying in only her corset and underclothes. Cara's doing, she mused. Her other arm came to encircle the Mord'Sith's shoulders as she tentatively lifted herself off of the ground with Cara's still form somewhat nestled against her chest.

Due to that blackout-blow to the head she had suffered, the Confessor had been mostly groggy during the time in which the Mord'Sith carried her through the woods, it was true, but she had not been completely oblivious to the world. The way Cara had cared for her wounds back in the meadow, and later when the blonde had warily dragged her into the cave, relived her from her damp clothes and protectively encased her freezing body with their joined mantles. All the time, as she wandered between unconsciousness and pain, this one thing had been quite real and insightful to Kahlan: Cara's devotion to _her_.

And Kahlan knew, without having to see it thoroughly, that the Mord'Sith was severely injured. She had felt it on her own sore body each time the woman hissed and then mumbled a scant apology, or cursed it all to the Keeper when she would lose her footing while hauling the Confessor about. Kahlan had even managed to flutter her eyes open once, a fleeting moment of full awareness before the shadows of the night and in her mind grew too dark for discerning, and she had glimpsed the ugly bleeding torn on Cara's left side.

Lightning flashed and thunder boomed in the skies, reverberating through the cave's dark walls and haunting her thoughts as she held the Mord'Sith in her arms, as she fought back the sense of dread growing inside of her.

Hard, rocky ground and loose layers of the coarse fabric of their entangled blankets scratched at the skin on the back of her not bandaged thigh as she, managing to skid backwards and sit with her back against the cave's sidewall, tried to take a look at the other woman's injured shoulder. Before she could focus her attention there, however, utter fear gripped at Kahlan's throat as the Mord'Sith's head lolled back down and away from her loose embrace.

Tears rolled down her cheeks unraveled as her face contorted into a mask of desolation – the sudden raw knowledge that she was holding onto the dead weight of this woman, this beautifully broken woman who had literally given her last breath to ensure she would survive to see another sunrise, tore at Kahlan's very soul. The unmerciful sharpness of a new forged blade to her own heart wouldn't have been this terrifying a vision as the one she had just witnessed.

And just like that, bittersweet and tragic as it might be, the epiphany happened.

Kahlan loved this woman.

Yes, she had always felt a sort of odd pull toward the gruff blonde with a serious case of lack of social skills, which was a paradox in itself. For not only the woman was Mord'Sith, but the one who had killed her little sister, not to mention her fellow Confessors.

She had, and not without a certain amount of jealousy, trusted Cara's ability to protect Richard from the beginning, even though she would not let the ratifying words cross her lips then. She would give the world now for a chance to tell them to Cara just once.

In truth, for so long she had been a reticent admirer of Cara's passion and wit, as she was often heartened by the blonde's obstinate pride and resolute sense of loyalty, that she had thought it better to keep things that way. Daydreaming and trying not to think too hard about anything related to her life before and after one particular leathered-clad woman. Theirs was a difficult relationship even when they had reached a common ground. But, during this time in which they were treading on thin ice toward each other, dancing in a rhythm only known by the ones in silky white and red leather, Kahlan had come to care for the blonde woman in ways that she wouldn't dare to name. It was awkward, preposterous even, and so she found that she could easily dismiss it all to the always so welcomed and required idleness when one is faced by, and have to face back, the abysses of life on an almost daily basis.

There were many reasons why she should hate this Mord'Sith.

But the thing that shook Kahlan to the core was that she just realized, right and here in this dark, damp hole, that there was not even _one_ reason for her not to love Cara. How could anyone with a heart not love _Cara_? Cara who would always be there for the ones she held to heart, who just asked without asking for a chance to be more, to be a part of something prized.

A choice, however, that Kahlan had not made. A chance that, for all her twisted reasoning, Kahlan hadn't dared to take. How many times she had shut Cara out, so afraid of what could happen if she lowered her guard with the frustratingly unreadable woman.

But not allowing it the possibility of becoming an actual act did not prevent it from _being_ real. All her confusing and denying, it was what seemed out of place now, just inconceivable, vanished as if it had been swallowed by the hungry earth outside in the same way it was swallowing the bitter waters rushing down from the skies.

Was it too late for caring, for choosing? What would Cara think, what would she have done, if she knew the true nature of Kahlan's feelings for her? Would Cara ignore her until she realized the lengths of her foolishness for mistaking a Mord'Sith as someone who was capable of caring, of love?

"Would you?" She murmured in daze against tangles of wet blond hair, desperately pulling the Mord'Sith's flaccid body against her chest.

She got no response.

"Cara, I'm here. See? You brought me back. I'm here..."

Too late to realize the obvious.

* * *

"… I'll take care of you, I promise. Promise me you will… Just rest now… Remember to breathe…" The Mother Confessor was in a chaotic state of mind, murmuring nonsensical things against the Mord'Sith's head as she numbly rocked the woman's body back and forth.

The despair had come, drained her, and gone.

Listening to the melancholic tune of the rain now falling quietly outside, sitting in the same position for Spirits knew how long, she held onto the woman she had failed to save; Kahlan didn't feel like living at all.

She felt as if she was sinking and sinking into those dark waters again, into her tears, but had nothing left to give.

Just as she was dry, empty and cold, she was raw, torn flesh bleeding without blood.

Tasting the familiar tang, she realized she had been kissing a bloody cut on Cara's head.

The Mother Confessor was losing her mind.

"I'm so sorry..." She mumbled as she pulled in Cara's right arm and rested it over the Mord'Sith's motionless chest, her pale fingers closing around gloved ones that still kept their slack grip to a dead Agiel – the same Agiel that had taken her breath away with its searing touch a while ago.

She easily pulled it free from Cara's fingers and pressed its blunt end to her own heart.

The utter lack of pain hurt too much, so very deep.

Kahlan sobbed in grief, putting the Agiel aside without sparing another look at it.

No. No choice would be granted to her.

And it was not even dark as midnight yet.

* * *

It was not supposed to end like this. If only she could take it all back…

Take it back that she had stayed behind to attend to a foolish dispute between meaningless local farmers. That Cara had agreed to a categorically denied but visibly needed respite and had remained by Kahlan's side because the Confessor had asked her so, while insisting that Richard and Zedd should head on to a larger village beyond those same and, until then, unremarkable woods, where they could wait for the women and restock their supplies. That she had been so worn out and lazily triumphant, by having finally banished the Keeper of the Underworld to his own pit of misery, as to let her guard down that easily.

They had been only a day behind the men and on their way to reunite with them in said village, where the foursome would steal some time away from the festivities that the villagers were likely to impart on them so that they could plan what was left of their trip north, to Aydindril, and from there on.

Until that strange mist came upon them.

The horses, whinnying and stomping their hooves wildly in a startling attempt to get rid of their riders, did exactly that before running away into the hazy tree line.

There was an overwhelming moment of complete stillness and then they came, howling and swirling their huge blades like there was no tomorrow. At least for the bastards, there wouldn't be.

Though, getting beaten down by those soulless beasts and being now trapped in this hellhole in the midst of a summer storm with Cara like this was not the way Kahlan had intended this day to end.

If only she'd had the chance to see it coming, to turn the wheels of time back to...

She knew what was like to wish the impossible.

_Spirits help me, but I would damn it all to the Underworld for a chance to do things right. _

"To be deserving of your devotion, of your…broken, brave heart…" The words left her in a hushed undertone, her teeth clattering together as she tried to smile at the vapor floating above Cara's face.

She thought the Mord'Sith would grumble and be secretly charmed by the tiny tufts of warm air, for they looked like the "morons' little heads" she had befriended not long ago – the way she had once described the baby Night Wisps to Kahlan.

Kahlan thought. Thought of all these small but significant things that should have made Cara worthy of her fighting, of her courage, of her love.

The pain and sorrow that came with the memories of their time in Dunshire ripped her heart apart all over again, her guts twisting painfully as a fresh wave of tears spilled free, as she mourned all the things that she had lost without even having.

Tear by tear, the feeling of hopelessness began to give way to a dangerous one.

Anger.

She was angry at the world for being so cruel, angry at herself for her selfishness, angry at Cara for leaving.

She was becoming even angrier at being angry at Cara.

It was too much. She lost it.

"_Come on_, wake up!" She hissed furiously at the Mord'Sith's paled face, shaking her shoulder with some force.

She didn't care that it was the one shoulder with the piece of wood pierced in.

If anything, pain was a welcomed ally if it could lure the stubborn Mord'Sith back to life.

If anything, it would.

The pale blue of her irises misted with black as Kahlan pushed against the stony wall behind her, her middle curling in over Cara's as she pressed her right ear to the other woman's chest.

"You can't die on me like this!" She growled.

But not a sole beat could be heard underneath bloody leathers and marred skin.

Looking back at the slack face before hers, she grabbed the sides of Cara's head and shouted, "Damn it, Cara. Open your eyes!"

Kahlan shook the Mord'Sith's body more forcibly once, twice, a third time as a pitiful wail left her constricted throat. Her control over her magic was running lower and lower and she didn't care one bit.

"You are the strong one, remember? Nothing can stop you. Nothing can… Please…"

She caressed Cara's cooled forehead with her left hand, a trembling thumb trying to wipe the drying blood there, fingertips barely touching semi-lidded eyes, then slightly parted lips. They were so cold.

"Please. Open your eyes, Cara." She pleaded lowly, what rested of her restraint was breaking down.

Green eyes did not open, would not stare back into her blackened ones.

So Kahlan just waited, waited for it to come and take her misery away.

She didn't have to wait long.

It happened with a vengeful rage erupting from that dark place locked inside of every Confessor, that ever constant and primal tingling that tasted like dark wild honey and tales of old was now just _boiling_ under her skin, corrupting all her rational thoughts. Only this time the searing and sudden pulse flared up with all the might of one Kahlan Amnell – the most powerful Confessor to ever walk the lands since Magda Searus herself.

A ghost of a whisper, a name, left her lips before her entire body convulsed, dark hair swiping around as the Confessor's head jerked back up with an earsplitting cry tearing out of her throat. Soon after, a concussive explosion of magic pulsed from her shaking body, the hot bolt of light rippled around and beyond at such a blinding speed that it quieted even the wild crackles of thunder and the rain stopped falling for a few stilled moments.

It had never felt like this before, the release of her magic.

She was not spent when her vision cleared, as her head slowly leaned down until she was facing Cara again.

She did not feel spent, just… alone.

Utterly alone.

And alone as she was, the Mother Confessor closed her eyes, absently pulling off the flimsy piece of fabric she had forgotten was still partly bandaging her now-healed head. Opened again, her eyes were of a paler shade of blue surrounded by tiny red veins that could not be seen in the dimness of the cave.

The bitter irony that this place had the likeness of a grave did not go unnoticed by Kahlan. Places of death, it seemed, had a strange way of revealing the liveliest aspects of this particular Mord'Sith.

Except it did not happen, not this time, how she wished it would. The impossible way she wished it to end.

Dying was not an option for the Mother Confessor, Cara had seen to it herself, and hoping against hope would not bring Cara back. Actually, as a woman that was not in the least fond of bland silliness, the blonde would likely scoff at the very idea of wishing things that she couldn't have. She would roll her eyes out of her head if she knew of being used as excuse for such a display of weakness.

Kahlan smiled, teary, "It was never your strong suit. You just like doing things the harder way." She breathed, eyes drifting over the limp woman's features one last time.

_I wish… I didn't have to let you go._

Bending down a little more, Kahlan pressed her lips softly onto Cara's forehead.

And wept.

Wept because just then, with her lips touching the Mord'Sith's skin, she remembered that Cara had tried to say something to her. That Cara had tried to kiss her.

That she had known a first taste, but would never get a last.

And because, once again, a thin thread of hope fluttered against her skin.

* * *

**To be continued...**

**(Who knows? Maybe there's still hope.) **


	3. Chapter 3

**Word Count: **4,404

**A/N1: **See the previous chapters for disclaimers.

**A/N2: **My gratitude to Cloud Auditore Fair, my lovely beta.

**A/N3: **This chapter is an interlude. Kind of. Whether for the good or for the bad, fate will tell us.

* * *

**Survivor**

**- III -**

Unblinking eyes stared at badly lit nothingness.

Her cheek pressed against caked blood, left palm to cooled skin. As she tried not to let her thoughts surrender to the shadows, they kept snaking into the corners and cracks, making a labyrinth of her mind where she got lost in the events of their last day together.

* * *

"_What was that about?" Cara asked without looking at her, as they stood side by side observing the outlines of two horses disappearing into a cloud of dust._

"_What?" Her gaze lingered on their blurred figures until the Seeker and Wizard bended to a sharp curve, leaving behind an oddly quiet Confessor to stare absently at the sinuous road ahead of them. _

_The Mord'Sith lowered her gaze, and before she could think better of it she blurted, "You wanted me to stay with you instead of Richard." She took a step to the other side then, meaning to put some space between them or flee, but then stopped with a huff and, ever so hesitantly, turned her head toward a seemingly oblivious Kahlan; the whitening grip on the wrist at her back hardened just a little bit more by seeing that the woman's eyes were still wandering about._

_Something about the way Cara had spoken those words caught Kahlan's attention, though, bringing the Confessor back from her musings. She blinked, her gaze drifting to Cara's profile, seeing the hard set of her jaw and the tension on her shoulders. _

_Apparently, the brunette thought that was a convenient time to get tongue-tied, because all she did was stare blankly at the Mord'Sith's clasped hands. _

_Cara wouldn't have any of it right then. She spun back to face the Confessor with the perfect arch of an eyebrow posing a question, arms coming to cross under her breasts petulantly._

_Nevertheless, and to Cara's further aggravation, Kahlan only stared some more in her general direction and then huffed a short, nervous laugh. _

"_I thought you would know, Cara." She said slightly out of breath, blue eyes averting, finding sudden interest on the back of the young soldier's head – who kept fumbling with the reins of their horses a little ways off by the other side of the road. He'd been sent by a farmer that requested the Mother Confessor's judgment in some ill-fated business of his with another local landowner, and since the boy's nervous speech about such men had given Kahlan pause, the group decided it was about time to make a strategic break on their trip back to inland; it would also mean a little respite and provide them with fresh meals and warm beds, as Zedd had been quick to point out in that mischievous manner of his. _

_Noticing the Confessor's distraction and the telltale blush rising on her cheeks, Cara cocked her head pensively for a moment before letting out a clipped, "Of course". _

_Then, turning on her heels, she swaggered back toward the tree line, all the while wondering when the Seeker and his Confessor would stop being ridiculous and finally go to it. Damn, anyone with _eyes_ could see they so badly wanted to. But all the more infuriating was the way they had been acting since they left the Pillars of Creation – like sex was something sacred and all that nonsense talk about pure, true love. For Rahl's sake! If it wasn't for her long years of discipline shielding her mind she would've gone mad by now, she was sure of it. And really, she didn't even know why she was thinking this much about Kahlan and Richard being together. It was none of her business, after all._

_Meanwhile, Kahlan just stood there, by the roadside, frowning and inwardly cursing her inability to read this woman. At last she sighed, remembering herself that it was not the time yet. She had to get to Aydindril first, for in her home, within the revered walls of the Confessor's Palace, she knew there would be no escape from the truth. There, she would be whole again. She'd be stronger to face the call of her duty and the reality of her feelings. But there would ever be reconciliation between her head and her heart? These thoughts had stolen her peace of mind since that one night they spent at the shades of the Pillars, and seemingly would continue to do so._

"_Set your pace, Confessor." Cara gibed from the top of her black stallion as the other woman absentmindedly made her way toward her grey one._

_Kahlan shot her a glare before mounting her horse with a flourish, guiding him back to the road, but then halted, "I'm not turning my back on you, _Mord'Sith._" She emphasized with mock lightness and looked on toward the village, biting her lip to stop from smiling as she waited for the jab to come._

_But Cara only snorted and then rolled her eyes when she saw the pitiable excuse of a soldier struggling with the stirrup of his own horse. _

_Kahlan heard him huffing and turned in time to see his brown eyes widening comically at Cara's sudden appearance by his side, just as he managed to sit upright onto his ill-tempered mount. _

"_Hurry up, brat!" The bewildered lad nearly fell off of the animal, appalled by the menacing tone of the woman in red leather. Said woman narrowed her green eyes and leaned in to speak right to his un-bearded face, "You might not want to live long enough to regret leaving the Mother Confessor alone with a Mord'Sith." With a final look down her nose at the frightened soldier, she shook her head in barely concealed disgust before setting off on the road._

_Then it was Kahlan's turn to shake her head, only it was in quiet amazement; she had poked the lion, but wouldn't suffer the brunt of its rage – at least not directly, it seemed. While she knew Cara would not hurt the boy, the way the woman had been acting these days was preoccupying the Confessor. Cara was only being, well, Cara, but there was something else, or, rather, old about her behavior. Though Kahlan didn't have a clue as to what exactly, she felt that, whatever it was, was troubling the other woman because, in her experience with Cara, being faced by situations she didn't know how to handle generally meant that the blonde would fall back into vicious manners. She was also baffled by the realization that, even now, with this boding evil version of the woman at her side, she wouldn't feel the strain of worrying about her own safety all the time – and she had worried a lot since she was the one in her waning Order bearing the title of Mother Confessor._

_Kahlan had come to accept, and it was a knowledge deeply rooted in her soul now, that Cara would always be there guarding her every step, offering a strong hand regardless if she would take it or not. It was as unthinkable a circumstance between people meant to be mortal enemies as she had ever heard about, and she was quite sure that Cara was aware of it being so, but things had turned out to be this way between them without the excuse of Richard for it. In fact, that things could've ended terribly bad on more than one occasion, but hadn't, was an implicit understanding for all of them, but still... It might seem self-centered, and she knew that to some degree it was, but Kahlan found Cara's protective facet as more than a useful tool, it was also an endearing attribute, if not intriguing in its own contradiction; perhaps it was because Mord'Sith weren't meant to be so, at least not in regards of a sworn enemy. Thinking back, it had always shone through a different prism with Richard, because even when she was supposed to feel loved and protected by his kindness and chivalry, sometimes she'd find herself wondering if he only did those things for her because he wanted to prove something of his own and, by doing so, only making her less and less confident about the power she herself wielded._

_The Confessor was snapped out of her thoughts by the soldier grumbling something by her side – he might've been there talking to the breeze for more than a little while considering how much ground the Mord'Sith had put between them already._

_Taking pity on the young man, Kahlan smiled indulgently at him. "She always gets moody when the sun is setting and we're still on the road." He clearly had never crossed paths with a Sister of the Agiel before, the poor boy. _

"_Are you coming or not, little man?!" Came an angry bark from the distance. _

_Startled out of his wits, the soldier kicked his horse into a frantic trot, following the Mother Confessor's tracks like they were the very path to the Creator's Light._

* * *

_She leaned down, her lips a hairsbreadth from touching the shell of Cara's ear as she spoke, "I'm going upstairs. Aren't you coming?" The slurred tone of her voice didn't go unnoticed even by Kahlan herself, but she was way too lost to the cheery mood around them to care about it._

_What was it now? The woman was sniffing her? Cara snorted, _Leave it to an inebriated Confessor. _She waited until Kahlan stood tall again, hand still on her left shoulder, squeezing lightly. The blonde sucked on her teeth, as if considering what to do, mug hovering near her lips. _

"_I have my own room." She said avoiding Kahlan's stare, then took what was left of her drink in a long swig. _

_Kahlan's eyes narrowed at that, hands flying to her hips, "Did you have the coin for it?" She was using her accusatory tone. Well, the Mother Confessor didn't seem pleased as far as Cara was concerned, but it was hard to discern her motives at that point of the night. _

_So, the Mord'Sith hummed concomitantly, not wanting to make it for a whole speech about not threatening the innkeeper with her bared-teeth smile or whatever, and then proceeded to fill up her mug. _

_As for the Confessor, she'd lost track after Cara's sixth drink, but the Mord'Sith didn't seem altered in the slightest, she idly noted and pouted. Well, she could've easily made it to fourth round if she wasn't a mess already. _

"_Well, good night then. And stay out of trouble." With a last pat to Cara's shoulder and a half drunken smile, she walked off toward the stairs. _

_Kahlan didn't hear the mumbled "Easier said than done, Mother Confessor" lost amid the hubbub in the tavern._

_It was near noon time the next day, they had left the village soon after Kahlan had solved the farmers' grudge and they were riding side by side on that same road, when words finally passed between them again._

"_You smell better than Richard." _

_Cara raised a sardonic eyebrow at her._

_Kahlan rushed to clarify, "Even when you indulge in wine... But that wasn't the reason I wanted you instead– I mean, Richard's been too… sticky lately, not just in that way, you know. I, uh, prefer to sleep with you when we get to share rooms, anyways." She frowned, looking onward awkwardly. At least she managed not to stammer. Much. Spirits, her head was hurting too much for this._

_There was a charged pause, during which Cara eyed Kahlan with naked mistrust and Kahlan just squirmed on her saddle, eyes glued on the road ahead. _

_Then the Mord'Sith sniffed, as if in self-appreciation, "I suspected as much." She stated, seeming quite satisfied with herself._

_When Kahlan burst into a delightful fit of laughter, meeting the blonde's mischievous gaze with one of her own, it felt contagious even to the grumpy Mord'Sith._

_Cara laughed back._

_Seeing the Mord'Sith laughing like that was so rare, it made Kahlan falter a little, a lazy smile blossoming on her face as her eyes became softer, shy, until the brunette ducked her head and looked away again, hoping the Mord'Sith would think nothing of it. _

_Something was fluttering warmly inside her belly, it felt like tiny wings taking flight._

_It preluded doom._

* * *

The beat of a butterfly's wings, it was all that was keeping her world from crumbling down into absolute ruin.

"Come on," She whispered to the thick midnight air. "Let it go, Cara. Don't hold it in."

Kahlan knew it could be just her muddled mind toying with the eerie noises around her, twisting the shadows into gloomy shapes that skulked in the corners of the cave, taunting her with madness. She couldn't help staring at them, though, for the mere thought of looking down at the Mord'Sith's face only to find it slacked in deathly stillness terrified her beyond reason.

She feared that she would stay this way forever, frozen in this dark grave, dying piece by piece while waiting for imaginary wisps of air to save her. That she would be holding her breath, hoping for an ephemeral chance to pull it back, only to keep going without it. Like a living dead.

The thought of having to bear such a ghastly existence reminded her that Cara had died once before and returned as a baneling, that no one had noticed that something was wrong with her. It had taken a selfless act of a stranger, Zedd's brother, to grant Cara the gift that, at that moment, she herself no longer possessed to give. Not even the Seeker, for whom the Mord'Sith had claimed the Keeper's deal, coming back from the dead for the lone purpose of not failing a friend she insisted in calling her Master, had intuited the truthiness behind the Mord'Sith's actions. But Kahlan did. And if she was honest with herself, it wasn't easy to admit it then, that on some level they were to blame for what had happened to Cara. And now, now she felt ashamed for remaining silent. Because in the end, with all things counted and weighed, when they all had invoked Cara as more than a valuable weapon to their at last successful quest, even then… It wasn't enough, didn't feel true.

They had failed this woman, each on their own way they all did.

But then she felt it again, that subtle warmth blowing faintly across her chin and her heart skipped a beat as she sensed a slight movement beneath that was not her own.

Still, she couldn't bring herself to look at it.

"Please, do it again…" Her voice drifted away, the lump in her throat making it hard to speak.

She listened, holding her breath as a charged quietude took the cave.

Until the soft hiss of leather filled the air, a flash of red teasing the corner of her eye.

Was it really happening?

Her chest, it seemed to be moving, slowly, but steadily so. And the growing heat on her skin could only mean one thing...

Kahlan felt her body start to tremble, the butterfly's wings were fluttering again to release the chaos within her, and like a hammer the increasing beat echoed in her ears, agonizingly shattering down what rested of the jumbled walls immuring her heart. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to calm down, as she tried to control her own shallow breaths.

She couldn't trust the signs her others senses wanted to read, even her eyes were still seeking the courage to open and face it.

"Just one more time." She pleaded.

She held her breath one last time, pressed her palm more closely against the warmer skin of Cara's chest and waited.

"This is it." Another beat later and a broken smile found its way to the Mother Confessor's teary face.

It might seem impossible, but she wasn't looking for an explanation right now.

* * *

"It's beating," She breathed in wonder. "Your heart is beating again, Cara."

Pouring rain had faded out, leaving in its place a misty drizzle and its quiet falling that sounded like a lullaby to her aching ears. She could hardly believe her own eyes, but there she was, staring awed at the tiny threads of hope blown from the Mord'Sith's nostrils.

In the enclosing darkness, Kahlan could still see the strong lines of a calm face, the stain of blood marring the forehead, a cheek and chest. She kept her right arm under Cara's head, supporting her elbow on a slightly bended knee while her left hand remained tucked in the opening of the Mord'Sith's leathers, firmly pressed against the swell of Cara's left breast.

She was trying to understand what had just happened, her head spinning with confused thoughts when she caught sight of eyelids fluttering open, revealing dark green irises that flicked instantly to meet hers. Then she gasped at hearing the muffled words coming out of the Mord'Sith's lips.

Taken aback, widening eyes locked to hooded ones, "What? You–"

"I said. _Go. Away._" The woman growled, then grimaced, for the mere act of speaking caused her whole body to hurt. But once she had started, not even the Creator would stop her from saying it to her devious former lover, "I may be dead, but don't mistake me for one of your stupid whores, Keeper. I know she's alive, so just get out of my pain already, you bastard."

Kahlan was rendered speechless for a few moments, then couldn't decide whether to laugh or cry, so she did both. Then, taken by a sudden impulse, she leaned down and pressed her lips firmly against the Mord'Sith's.

The touch lingered on just so, as everything else faded to insignificance. Kahlan felt this balmy dizziness taking her and for a few long heartbeats it overshadowed all the tension and soreness that had clung to her body. Until a ragged breath from the woman beneath forced her thoughts back from the unbelievably sweet taste of Cara's blood on her lips, the tease of it on the tip of her tongue making her mouth dry.

Reality came rushing in to flood her mind with its rawness when the Confessor felt a sharp stinging on her collarbone. Her head snapped back, blue eyes widened by words hanging on her tongue, unsaid.

Cara was eyeing her from under heavy lashes, a mix of suspicion and pain written on her face, but then her eyelids went closing slowly as an indistinct noise escaped her throat.

"I wasn't…" The Mord'Sith trailed off, trying to move her left arm from where it was lying across her middle, only to have a spike of pain going straight to her shoulder, spreading down to her ribs and making her eyes snap open to a momentary, throbbing blindness.

_In the Underworld, after all, _she thought to herself, frowning.

Though not, it was in fact the pain of living, for the ache was in everyplace at once but never really there, as she was used to. Even so, she briefly wondered if she was still in the clutches of the Keeper, because it couldn't possibly have happened. Not that she minded being kissed by Kahlan, but…_Wait._ _Kahlan just kissed me?_

Said woman was weeping it seemed, looking down at her with that strange expression on her face but, whatever it had been, Cara couldn't discern it from the dimness of this cursed pit, and the burning ache on her side just increased when... Well, her entire body ached, but it was nothing new, so–

"Can you sit up?"

–she was planning on doing exactly that. It would only take a second or two, really.

"I… will. Just give me a…" She felt arms encircling her shoulders purposefully and the protest died on the back of her throat as she let out a pained groan.

Carefully, Kahlan maneuvered their bodies so that Cara could sit with her back to the cave's wall. She clumsily took off the blankets still clinging to her legs before kneeling and scooting up to sit on her heels beside the Mord'Sith's outstretched legs. Due to the occasional flashes of lightning, she could see that the blankets were spotted with blood, though she felt it mainly with her hands when touched the soaked places. It was mostly Cara's blood, of course, since her own wounds had been at least tended and bandaged. The Confessor managed to fold one of them and put it under Cara's left arm, pressing the fabric to the Mord'Sith's sliced side, then she surreptitiously let her gaze travel from the blonde's injured leg to her punctured shoulder, finally settling on her hooded eyes that stared at her with pained intensity. Kahlan's jaw clenched and she swallowed hard as she took in the sight before her. But she didn't have time for it now; she had to do something, anything to help Cara.

"Kahlan."

The Confessor leaned closer and whispered, "Tell me."

By the tone of her voice alone Cara could tell the woman was still crying, even though there was no confusing the scars of tears she was seeing on Kahlan's face.

The face she thought would never see again.

For a stricken moment, this face surrounded by shadows and marred by tears was all she could see, all she could recall from vague memories she wasn't sure were hers anymore; it was as if she'd been thrown in the pit of her old cell by the Keeper himself. She tried to suck in air and couldn't. She felt trapped, defenseless, hurt. And if such a thing were possible, it pained her even more to know that she was the one causing this magnificent woman to look so small and frightened, like a…

"Don't do this." She blurted suddenly, eyes wide.

Kahlan recalled seeing that haunted look before, though couldn't quite place it, "Cara–"

"Are you cold?"

"What?"

"You're trembling."

_Stubborn woman! _Kahlan wanted to yell at her for this ridiculous attempt to divert her attention. But what else could she expect from Cara? She shook her head, unable to quit the sniffling as she spoke quietly, "Just tell me what I have to do."

"You could start… stopping this. Just, do not…" Cara panted as she let her head roll sideways against the wall, fighting the sting in her eyes as she sought the cave's entrance, anything to distract her from Kahlan's teary gaze.

It took Kahlan a moment to realize it was her crying that was troubling the other woman.

"Okay. Sorry." She murmured, chastising herself inwardly for letting her frayed nerves get the better of her. Making the Mord'Sith anxious wasn't going to help matters in such circumstances.

"Can you take this off?" The woman rasped, gesturing vaguely to her chest, still looking away.

"I can, but–"

"Then you do it."

"The wound, how am I going to..." She trailed off, hesitated, then gingerly moved her right leg over Cara's, the other one following along. She shifted a bit, kneeling by Cara's left side as she did, then removed the folded blanket from under the woman's arm. Kahlan inspected it briefly and was somewhat alleviated to see that at least the bleed had lessened.

"I'll do it." Cara looked back at her before continuing, her expression strangely blank, "You only have to use your dagger to incise the wound and ease the arrowhead out."

Kahlan shook her head, alarmed, "I don't think it's a good idea, Cara."

"I wasn't counting on you to come up with a better suggestion, anyway." Her head fell back against the wall as she grunted something unintelligible.

"What is it?" Her hands shot up to grab the sides of the Mord'Sith's face and pull her head back toward her, "Cara? Cara, look at me. Hold on, please."

"I'm not going to–"

"Don't. Don't say that."

The woman laughed suddenly. And it was such a disconcerting thing to do considering her current state that Kahlan could only stare dumbly at her.

"Something happened."

"What happened?"

"You happened."

"Cara, you're not making sense."

"It was you, Kahlan." She repeated, looking right into her blues eyes. "I'm not delirious. One moment I was in the Underworld, then I was back here. Something happened," Green eyes became distant as she finished quietly, "It had your scent, and it pulled me back."

"It had my scent…" Kahlan echoed absently, her own gaze drifting away as she tried to reconcile this rather disturbing information with what she knew of her powers.

When their eyes met again, neither dared to speak a word. There was no need, because everything that needed to be said palled compared to what was transpiring between them at that moment.

The truth. It surfaced from the dark waters of her heart and was now screaming in the silent vagueness of their refuge.

The air shifted around them while their eyes remained locked, yearning for things they both knew were impossible, forbidden.

All too soon, the moment was shattered when a sudden, chilling breeze blew across her skin, making the hairs of her nude legs and arms rise. Out of instinct, the Confessor turned her head toward the only direction it could've come from.

What she saw filled her blue eyes with dread before the familiar taste of blood led her to the darkness.

* * *

**To be continued...**


	4. Chapter 4

**Word Count: **5,857

**A/N1: **See the previous chapters for disclaimers.

**A/N2: **My gratitude to Cloud Auditore Fair, my lovely beta.

**A/N3: **First, sorry for the delay in updating. And thank you all readers still accompanying this story. Now, things are getting a little mysterious, we get a few answers and a couple of questions as well.

* * *

**Survivor**

**- IV -**

When Richard and Zedd had passed by a small guardhouse before guiding their horses toward the squared center of the village early that morning, the few solemn faces that greeted them felt odd, even though the juxtaposition of stark buildings, crisp nature and unsettled people wasn't uncommon in the Midlands.

Yet, it had seemed unlikely.

The strangest thing about this place wasn't its false air of idyll, though; it happened to be the fact that the villagers hadn't been quite so prone to celebrate the Seeker's and First Wizard's presence in their midst, as it was to be expected now that the lands was freed from the Keeper and his minions.

It turned out that, by the end of the evening, while they were having their supper, the beginnings of a commotion outside the inn caught Richard's attention. Puzzled, he prompted his grandfather to follow him and they went out to check on it.

After forcing their way through a crowd of loud people, they learned from a mid-aged man wearing heavy armor about the carnage they had just survived. The grim soldier, whom was covered in blood from head to toes, told them that the hunting party had been an effort put out by the people of the village to stop the butchery that, a fortnight ago, had ridded their forests of any game or safety. But, as it ended up happening, of the fifty strong men that had left their homes two days ago, all of which well-armed and versed in combat, only few lived to tell the tale.

Whilst they listened to the soldier's story, Richard noticed that some of the injured men being supported by random people kept mumbling incoherently about monks, an reopened rift and 'the murderous beasts brought by the mist', which only served to mystify Richard even more; it did nothing to help matters, seeing that appalled look on Zedd's face when this last piece of information came about.

When the villagers at last decided to disperse and the alleyway emptied somewhat, Richard and Zedd approached a tall blond man that identified himself as a soldier, one of the survivors. He provided them with more details and soon they discovered that the whole story couldn't become more bizarre after that.

Once said man had answered most of Richard's dizzying questions, he excused himself, saying that he needed to check on his brother, a hunter that had also been in the forests that day.

Zedd then pulled Richard into a corner and explained to him that, according to the survivors' descriptions about those creatures, the so-called murderous beasts, could in fact be a caste of demons that had long ago been human souls irrevocably twisted by dark magic, and that such creatures were capable of taking the shapes of their victims and live indefinitely, so long as they kept feeding from blood. He finished by declaring somberly that they were impossible to annihilate, but, if they were to be contained at least momentarily, it had to be done while they were in their physical state, which were just as hard a feat to accomplish given that their bodies were several times more resistant, even to lethal wounds. Though, if so managed, then they could lock them until this new disturbance in the veil was taken care of and, once it was done, they should kill their bodies so that the demons would return to the Underworld.

Zedd started to drift off then, referring to a reopened rift as an unprecedented oddity. As for the Seeker, who all the while tried to prod his grandfather into being more forthcoming with information about this 'disturbance' in the veil, received little to nothing by ways of response.

With a distant look in his eyes, the Wizard at last told Richard that he needed to go to the one person he knew could provide them with answers and, hugging his grandson tightly, he spoke in a strangled voice, "You know that Cara wouldn't let anything happen to Kahlan if she could help it. So, be careful, boy. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Then, the Wizard disappeared into a puff of smoky light, leaving a confused Seeker to stare at the spot where he had been.

* * *

Blue eyes cracked open and then all her senses were bursting alive as a painful awareness washed over her.

She remained still for a moment, though, trying to mentally determine the parts of her body that weren't hurting – her head not being one of them, she just realized.

A clumsy hand found its way to her face and Kahlan winced when she cupped what, at first, she had thought was a dislocated jaw; even though it hurt like hell, the sensation was likely due the brunt of the blow, she mused. Lying on her stomach as she was, facing the bottom of the cave, she rose onto her elbows and spat a mass of blood and spit, not bothering to look for one or two teeth she was certain were lost amid it.

Grimacing, she forced herself to sit up, the back of her left hand wiping at her mouth as her drowsy gaze wandered through the shadows.

At once, distorted images came rushing like a wild river in her head and blue eyes widened. She frantically sought a face in the cave's dim interior only to find that their blankets, backpacks and all their contents were scattered around as if a whirlwind had passed by the place. Or, as far as she could assume, as if an ugly fight had happened whilst she was blissfully unaware of the world.

She realized with blank horror that there was no sign of Cara.

With tears of anger welling in her eyes, Kahlan struggled against the dull ache on her right side as she came to her fours and began to crawl toward the cave's entrance. Once she reached the graveled ground outside, she rose onto shaky legs and looked for more signs of fight.

It looked like the worst of it had happened inside the cave and then something heavy had been dragged halfway from the entrance and down to the trail leading into the forest. The deep tracks were speckled with a darker fluid whereas the blood-spattered spots she found amidst the little black pebbles prevailed within the area of the shelter.

Kahlan's face contorted at the crude scene before her eyes, fear wrapping its gelid tendrils around her heart once again as she grabbed the sides of her head with clawed fingers, the cry she refused to let go burning deep in her throat.

This couldn't be happening. Not now, not after…

Tremulous hands left the grip they had in dark locks to pose in front of widened pale eyes. She stared blankly at her palms for a moment too long, frozen; they were coated in blood, and yet it didn't seem real enough.

Suddenly, glimpses of malicious yellow eyes flashed before hers and, startled, the Confessor backed away from the repulsive vision. Next thing she knew, her shoulder blades were hitting the sharp rim of the hollowed wall behind her, hands gripping at thin cool air as her bare feet slipped on something wet. She doubled over, nearly falling face-first onto the ground, but managed to stand upright at last. Her head jerked from side to side looking for a threat that, seemingly, wasn't there anymore.

Sucking in gulps of air, the Confessor cursed her too fertile thoughts for the time being, even though she was certain that these dreadful memories would terrorize her for much longer.

As her breathing evened, Kahlan let her gaze wander to the forest below. It seemed as calm as it could be, there were no strange noises except for those of nocturnal activity, and the skies were starting to clear.

If all of it had been just a crazy nightmare, then she would wake up to a gentle poke on her side and, with a troubled smile, lay bare her darkest secrets before Cara's eyes.

But could it possibly be more maddening that the only thing proving that she was of sound mind was the feel of cold blood on her hands?

Kahlan looked at her palms again. "Nothing is ever easy with you, is it?" Her whisper was as thick and emotionless as the deep crimson soaking her skin.

* * *

"The woods seem calm." He said pensively, dark eyes scanning the tree line.

One of his companions, the mid-aged soldier who was dismounting his horse beside him, harrumphed when his heavy boots met the ground.

"Looks are deceiving, Seeker." The sturdy man interjected.

"So everybody keeps saying." Richard groused, frustrated, before jumping off his steed's back.

Taking his bow and quiver, the Seeker walked through the tall sallow grass until he reached the edge of the field, his brow crinkled in concern for the things he knew as much as for the ones he didn't.

He looked over his shoulder at the other two men as they dismounted their horses several paces behind him, their postures stiffened by fatigue and anticipation as they talked in hushed tones between themselves; the wind was blowing their wary conversation to the south, but should the Seeker inform his companions of its indiscreet manners?

Of course Richard was impressed by the braveness of all those men, for it took no little amount of courage to face this kind of peril and in such disadvantageous proportion. But, at the same time, he was angry at them because when he had looked each one of the survivors in the eye, seen their elusive shame while hearing their neglectful utterances as to how they had carried out the charge, even when they found out that the Mother Confessor could be the cost of their hastened attack, the majority of them had declined from accompanying him. Richard was angrier yet because, in a way, he felt as if he was pointing a finger only to have three pointed back to himself, because it was hard to demand things of others when his own heart was compromised.

Whether it had been a lucky break that those men had seemingly managed to kill several of the creatures, they had already suffered their penalty by being slaughtered in return. Nevertheless, the most terrible consequence of their oblivious actions that afternoon was still to be measured up.

And Richard would make sure it would be so until the last pound of flesh.

Because, for him, it hadn't been sufficient motivation that, among the seven that had survived the attempt at exterminating the creatures, only these three men had volunteered to accompany the Seeker on a mission that meant certain death as far as they knew.

For Richard, Kahlan's life was above the fact that all that these three men had earned after such traumatizing experience was yet another call to share their losses in a fight that was not theirs to pursue or comprehend anymore. For Richard, Kahlan had always been above all of it; he could only hope that the distance hadn't become too high to be a real possibility in his life.

His jaw clenched as a thought flirted with him again, and it only angered the Seeker more to realize that it was a lost battle, the one he'd been fighting all this time.

Richard let out a ragged sigh, trying to quell the boiling rage in his veins; these men deserved at least the benefit of not being blamed for their attempt at discretion.

Still, blame had its own price to be expurgated. He wasn't going to concede it to them so easily.

The Seeker's gaze strained back toward the tree line as the men approached, his fist instinctively tightening on the hilt of his sword. His trained eyes had easily located the bifurcated pathway that would lead them into a less dense part of the forest, toward east, to a trail following the side of a steep rock formation that the men had pointed out as the limits of the beasts' hunting zone.

"You said they all were monks." Richard commented offhandedly.

"Yes, the ones that lived at the Mount L'aeb. They are a very secluded Order." His companion said gravely, coming to flank Richard's right side. He pointed a thick finger toward the eastern borders, where a massive dark shadow could be seen in stark contrast with the grey skies. "See? The creatures must've killed the poor hermits and assumed their appearances before migrating to our valley."

"This rift you spoke about must be somewhere near their monastery, then."

The soldier looked at him with a stern face and nodded. This broad shouldered man had a way about him that reminded Richard of his grandfather, and it wasn't only because he was as tall as Zedd and had the same bleached eyes that twinkled with joviality at the mere mention of food. It was the way the young man sometimes looked at him, like now, as if he was seeking some kind of absolution.

"Damned bastards," The hunter grumbled by Richard's other side. "What better way to approach people without arousing suspicion?"

The elder soldier stepped in front of the trio and stared them down, apparently annoyed by their useless ramble. "Let's go kill some demons, you pigs. There will be time for complaints later." With a last glare to his young partners, and a respectful one to Richard, the grumpy man marched into the undergrowth with his huge sword drawn and ready.

"Is he always like this?" Richard chuckled a bit, shaking his head.

This one certainly had a temper, so alike a certain blonde…

Richard blinked, realizing he'd been avoiding thinking about Cara since they started their journey to Aydindril. His frown deepened as he got caught in that train of thought again, vaguely registering the hunter's rueful response.

"You should see him on a bad day, Seeker." The young man grumbled as he and his brother treaded down toward the tree line.

The Seeker started at that, those disturbing thoughts slowly drifting away as he drew his sword with cold reverence, its faint orange glow cutting in the shadows of the night like a lamp would to a lost traveler.

Richard stared at the flat surface of the sacred blade of the Sword of Truth, then at the skies. For a long moment he just stood there, gazing up at the silent turbulence of the endless firmament above him.

And then he realized it; paradoxically so, all things were becoming clear like the skies on a crisp, spring day.

"We should've stayed together." His whispered words echoed gravely in the dark.

* * *

Her head hadn't stopped pounding since she had crawled back inside that hopeless hole, grabbed her still damp, dark traveling leathers and daggers, stuffed some contents she'd deemed important along with a lone Agiel into Cara's pack, and made her hasty way down the steep trail and into the forest.

An eternity in the Underworld wouldn't have felt this long.

Kahlan hadn't bothered to keep track of time, all she'd done was wander in circles, groping around in the dark while trying to follow mingled tracks that always leaded her toward that same set of trees, and pray to the Good Spirits as she cried her eyes out like a lost child. And finally, when all her hopes of finding Cara alive had vanished into the bitter air, she let her back slid against a rough bark, reached her arms around her knees and pulled them to her chest.

She did not cry.

In this moment of lucid madness, she cursed all the worthless divinities she knew to the barrens of the Underworld for letting this happen with her friend.

Time didn't seem to pass as she just sat there and waited. She didn't want to wait anymore. Why did one of those beasts not come now to do to her what they probably did to… so many others? What else could she expect from this world other than its blind cruelty?

After all the things she had sacrificed in order to keep these lands safe, so her people could try and live their lives as they so wished, no place was left for her own dreams.

And if there had ever been a chance, it had thinned to naught by now, reduced to the bleak shadows surrounding her.

She closed her eyes against unshed tears, the only thing left was her memories.

So, Kahlan let herself drown in them, like she did that one time when she'd been about to break down all those years ago.

Her thoughts drifted to the day she had first met Cara, what a long way they had come until… She dived back into a distant morning where she tried to make the hardheaded Mord'Sith understand the importance of having faith.

And now here she was, the Mother Confessor giving up on everything that made her who she was.

Then, it surfaced from the dark waters, her Mother's words echoed in her head and blue eyes stirred open. "Not just yet."

Something was moving quickly to her right and Kahlan only had time to spin her right arm back and strike at it, but by then it was too late, the thing was behind her, seizing her wrist in a hard grip, twisting her arm behind her and her body along with it until her back collided with unexpected soft heat.

"Don't. Move." A strong bare hand against her mouth followed by the husky words being breathed in her ear kept the Confessor from doing exactly that, though her body tensed up out of instinct, readying to attack, defend, whatever came first.

But then it registered on Kahlan, the tone of that voice, the way it made a particular spot on her side prickle, causing other parts of her body to warm up inexplicably.

"Over there."

Kahlan let herself be guided toward the opposite direction, to the north, where she could see nothing but endless dark embracing the blurred frames of trees.

But then her eyes widened.

About twenty yards from them, two distinct shapes crawled in the shadows, and they were moving so slowly it almost seemed…

"They're practically deaf," The voice carried on, seemingly oblivious to the soothing caress that its familiar low notes were doing on her skin, "but are far better at sniffing things – especially the fleshy, full of blood ones."

Kahlan nodded once and the hand covering her mouth was removed. Then, just like that, another familiar shape appeared before her eyes so fast it made Kahlan swoon a little. She shook her head and opened her mouth to speak, but then she was left staring dumbly at the shreds of bloody, torn leathers hanging from the Mord'Sith's back.

"Walk beside me. And don't make brusque movements." The Mord'Sith instructed in an even tone and took a deliberate step to the side, meaning to head west, but halted. She met Kahlan's gaze, parted her lips as if to say something but then turned away.

For a split moment, Kahlan thought she'd seen something in Cara's eyes, something… different. But she let it go and did as Cara said, trailing silently by her side as the woman set on a cautious pace, her eyes never leaving the gloomy shapes that continued moving ever so leisurely toward a slightly diverse direction.

They walked not more than thirty paces before they reached a large rock. Kahlan noticed that a semicircular area surrounding the waist high formation had been somewhat cleaned, like it had been used as a campsite a long time ago, and she momentarily wondered how she could've missed it. Truth be told, she'd not been in her soundest mind while roaming around these parts before, and she was way too tired and cold to recall being even able to walk upright then, not to mention the annoying ache on her side that kept slowing her down.

The Mord'Sith said to Kahlan to duck behind the rock and waited to see if she would do so. She vaguely pondered what she could do if the woman started to ask her undue questions or, worse, decided to run away, because the Confessor was looking at her as if she was wayward ghost and she didn't want to go to another chase just yet.

She let out a sigh when the woman finally crouched and, meaning to finish what she was doing when she'd caught sight of a dark head aimlessly wandering through the woods, Cara turned to walk off. A hand seized her wrist before she could, though.

"Stay back. Don't try to follow me." The Mord'Sith grounded and, before Kahlan could utter a word in protest, she freed herself of the Confessor's grip and sped off into the dark forest, heading north.

This time, Kahlan was left staring at a trail of fluttering leaves on the ground, "What on earth…" She mumbled, befuddled.

* * *

The Confessor raised a little to peak her head over the somewhat flat surface of the rock and glared at that same spot on the ground for the fifth time now, then at the woods that had become unnervingly quiet since the Mord'Sith left. The creatures where nowhere to be seen and Kahlan didn't know if it was a good or bad sign. When she was returning to her brooding seat behind the rock, a hand on her shoulder made her heart jump to her throat and she barely avoided stabbing the woman straight in the eye as she flailed around. Cara merely gave her a blank look while lowering to an easy crouch in front of the breathless Confessor, then tipped the other woman to do the same. Catching her breath, Kahlan did so, sitting on her haunches, idly noticing that the ever present feline aura about the Mord'Sith was now practically radiating off of her due to her current position, sitting on her locked heels with knees pulled wide apart and the tips of her stiff fingers digging in the dirt for support.

However, when Cara suddenly smiled at her, the way she did so without a trace of emotion, not even a forced one… It was the most disturbing thing she had ever seen the Mord'Sith doing.

"What's the matter, Confessor?" Cara drawled.

Kahlan decided to let the fact that the blonde's teeth were glistening red, even though she didn't seem to have a single cut or bruise on her anymore, aside for the moment. The whole situation was surreal, and Kahlan knew she had to find out what was going on as soon as possible. But, she intended to do so without losing the last of her sanity, or a vital part of her body.

Swallowing hard, she tentatively smiled back. "I, I thought I had lost you. Then I find you–"

"You mean I found you." Cara cut in, smiling that smile again, and this time it sent a chill up Kahlan's spine that she was certain the Mord'Sith had noticed, for dark green eyes narrowed quite menacingly at her.

"Cara, you're–" She paused, tried again. "What happened? Why did you leave me in the cave, alone? And then you…" The Confessor trailed off, shaking her head, "Never mind. You're here now, that's all that matter."

Cara didn't quite know what to make of that, so when the Confessor hesitantly lifted her hands and put them on her shoulders, holding her at arm's length while searching her face with troubled blue eyes, the Mord'Sith used the stressed silence as an opportunity to change the subject.

"Are you hurt?" She asked, a little suspicious.

She had no need to ask if Kahlan was hurt to know that the woman in fact was – minor wounds as they might be. But it had felt like the right thing to do now, for more reasons than just practicality. And, judging by the somewhat relaxed look Cara received after that, it had stirred the expected reaction in the Confessor.

"I'm fine." Kahlan replied, still a little breathless, eyeing the Mord'Sith as if expecting a baby dragon to jump out of the woman's back at any moment."Oh, Spirits, you're a stinking wreck, Cara." She suddenly choked out, her nose scrunching up as she threw her arms around Cara's back and clung to the woman as if her own life depended on it.

"Why, thank you, Mother Confessor. It was very kind on your part." She wryly retorted, giving the brunette's back a solid pat before extricating herself from the crushing embrace and resuming to her previous catlike position. "Though, you're right, my leathers are ruined," the Mord'Sith complained. She got to think of a 'nice way' to compel the Wizard into mending her suit later.

A wicked smirk played at the corners of her lips as she let her gaze drift by, the possibilities already taking shapes in her head, when she heard the Confessor's sly remark, "I wasn't talking about your leathers, silly."

Cara's face fell. If it were any other person, they would be crying their guts out at her feet in the blink of a eye for even daring to think her 'silly', let alone _calling_ her that – no, a _Confessor _just called her that and still had the gall to laugh on her face at her dismay.

If it were any other person...

But it weren't, it was Kahlan, so the Mord'Sith resigned herself to shoot the other woman a dark glare before she stood to take a look at their surroundings.

Cara signaled to Kahlan to stay where she was, then let her gaze scan the forestry background. Not but a beat later her eyes instinctively found their prey. She spotted five of them, farther to the northwest, in a small clearing ravaging a particular bloody carcass.

The Mord'Sith was starting to feel nostalgic herself, if a little bit too much excited by the scene, as she tilted her head and observed the creatures' meticulous work of separating flesh from bones, and it was amazing that she could see it all so perfectly, even from this far. It felt odd and familiar at the same time, this new view of things she was experiencing. It was like she was just as entranced as those beasts were by their gory task, as they seemingly had no care in the world except for hunting and tasting their own piece of fresh, succulent…

"Cara." The woman continued staring up at the distance, undisturbed. "Cara." She repeated a bit louder.

The Mord'Sith finally started, cocking her head toward Kahlan as she hummed absently, though her eyes continued focused on the woods beyond. Kahlan stood, huffing, and went on despite Cara's apparent inattentiveness, "I don't know about you, but I'm not planning on wasting a moment longer in this place."

"I told you to stay low." Her gaze flicked briefly to meet Kahlan's before returning to the creatures. A moment later she felt a tentative hand on her right shoulder and heaved a sigh, "What now?" She didn't mean to sound so harsh, but then again the Confessor seemed oblivious to Cara's increasingly agitated state.

"Your shoulder…" Kahlan said quietly, as she let her hand slid down to Cara's bicep and carefully turned the Mord'Sith to face her. Lifting her right hand, she fingered an enlarged hole on the worn leathers, her traitorous eyes drifting over to the blonde's navel. Her fingers hitched to touch the uncovered expanse of surprisingly… unmarred skin there.

"It's good." Cara replied hastily, taking hold of Kahlan's wandering hands before they could reach any lower. "I'm fine, Kahlan." She insisted, looking intently into Kahlan's eyes for what felt like a racking too long heartbeat that lasted until the Confessor took a step back, her hands sliding from Cara's own to hang by her sides.

Cara cursed herself inwardly for the look she was seeing on Kahlan's face, but what was she supposed to do? What else did the Mother Confessor expect of her? She did care for Kahlan and it troubled her more than ever now because she was losing control. Her mind and body were betraying her in disgraceful ways, but there was no point in denying that it also brought a kind of freedom she'd never experienced before in her life. And for what it was worth, she knew that the Confessor had at least some underlining curiosity about her. But then again, virtually everyone Cara had known felt sexual pulls toward Mord'Sith, been they a mere suicidal fascination, or a repressed desire to surrender to that which they despised. She knew both sides of that coin and the ones in between all too well. And she hated to see it glinting in Kahlan's eyes now, the fear and the contempt stocking an almost wild desire to posses her, tame her, understand her. Hated as much as she craved all those things she was seeing in Kahlan's eyes that enflamed the darkest parts of the Mord'Sith in her, just as they allured the weakest ones.

Closing the smallest distance between them now would only mean one thing.

Kahlan's demise.

Yes, the woman was formidable like that. A contradiction forged by her intrinsic purity and underrated desires.

But it was not confession Cara feared; if anything, she would die gladly if it meant so by Kahlan's hand. No, what she had always feared was what Kahlan could do to her with a single look, a fleeting touch. Cara didn't think she could survive if she were to let herself be involved by it, if she were to revolve around Kahlan too long that she would end up destroying what she most valued about the woman, her humanity.

And when a Mord'Sith couldn't survive burning her desires out of lust, she found a way to bury them under the weight of thousands bricks forged by its twin sister.

Cara would bask in her bloodlust.

"Look, here's what we're going to–"

"Your wounds are scarring." Kahlan said it as if it was a sin, her eyes void of emotion.

And Cara understood. In front of her was not Kahlan the woman, but the judge of truth.

"Kahlan," She started carefully, "We don't have–"

"Tell me what happened."

The Mord'Sith narrowed her eyes, she wasn't sure what the Confessor meant by that, but they had no time for it just the same. And she was about to say as much when she saw the alarmed look on the woman's face.

"What is it?"

"Didn't you hear that?"

"What?" Cara spun around in time to see the beast jumping from behind the bushes, and then their tangled bodies went flying at a violent speed across the clearing to be engulfed by foggy wilderness.

Kahlan's daggers were in her hands in the blink of an eye as she twirled toward the trees, her eyes wide in astonishment as she cried out Cara's name.

A long moment passed in deafening silence before she started toward the tree line, but then her feet faltered when a sickening, loud crack echoed in the night.

The hairs of her arms rose as a chill ran down her spine.

A whitish mist was rising from the ground, slowly climbing up the trees as if it had fingers and feet, while widened blue eyes tried to distinguish shapes among their overcast shadows. When a faint breeze blew across the clearing, her breath caught and fingers tightened their grip on the daggers' hilts.

There was only one standing there, frozen in the dark, observing her with those malicious yellow eyes.

"Run." It said and smiled at her.

That terrible smile full of bloody teeth would haunt her for the eternity.

But so be it.

"The Creator's Light be damned." Kahlan hissed as the Mord'Sith tilted her head.

The Mother Confessor wouldn't run.

* * *

Damian looked over his shoulder at his young brother. "You seriously need to stop making up these stories, Vince. They're crap."

"I'm not making anything up." The hunter retorted indignantly, then turned his light eyes to the cranky soldier walking beside him, "I maintain my theory. That beast that pounced on you did something crazy with his eyes and you got all sleepy. I swear, you were babbling like a frightened old lady afterwards."

"Ah, of course. Now tell me, it happened before or after the bastard almost ripped my head off while you just stood there like a dumb tree?" The dark-eyed soldier sneered at him, then stuck his huge sword to the young man's face as he spoke darkly, "This is nonsense. And you know it, lad."

Richard shook his head as the two men continued their banter, wondering if they'd been like this while trying to exterminate an entire caste of demoniac creatures that happened to be very hard to kill and quite skillful doing their own slaying.

He then looked at the tall blond man walking cautiously beside him, his face hardened in concentration as his gaze probed the shadows; at least one of his companions was ready and sound.

"Baccan?" Richard called over his shoulder, then looked back at his flanker. Damian tipped his head right and turned to that direction at the Seeker's curt nod.

"I saw it, too." The man at his back spoke in a bored voice, grunting something to the hunter as he flipped his sword in his hand. The Seeker's lips curled up, _Two of three._

Suddenly, a low wail echoed in the forest and everyone froze.

"Well, my friends," Vince chirped as he turned to face the ground they had covered and aimed his arrow toward the ominous figure perched on a branch not far from where he stood. "Let's start the party."

Richard grinned at that, the distinct metallic ringing of the Sword of Truth filling the air.

"Three of three."

* * *

**To be continued...**


	5. Chapter 5

**Word Count: **6,678

**A/N1: **See the previous chapters for disclaimers.

**A/N2: **My gratitude to Cloud Auditore Fair, my lovely beta.

**A/N3: **Again, I apologize for the delayed update. Thanks to and for you readers that kept an patient eye on this tale, I managed to bring this one to life. Life which has been whipping me lately, but I'm working hard to get the last chapter finished as soon as I can, which may be by this weekend. As of the present chapter, I'll let you find out what it has to say.

* * *

**Survivor**

**- V -**

When the Mord'Sith took the first step out of the shadows, Kahlan planted her feet into the muddy ground and braced herself for the inevitable.

The woman was stalking toward her with murder in her eerie sallow eyes and all she could think at that moment was how life could be ironically revealing when confronted with its imminent end.

She took a deep breath and raised her daggers; her only chance was to attack first.

But before Kahlan could make her move, something landed heavily behind her and scurried towards the brushwood to her right. Her eyes flicked reflexively to that direction, then back to Cara, who was now standing startling close to her. The woman shook her head disapprovingly at the Confessor, a wicked glint in her eyes as she clacked her tongue.

"Bad decision, Confessor," She sneered, before suddenly appearing by Kahlan's right side to give the brunette a hard shove just as the beast crawled out of hiding releasing a gut wrenching growl.

Kahlan went sprawling on the ground several paces away, the pack she carried somehow slipped off of her shoulders and fell even farther. Hurrying to get her bearings, she scooted backwards until the back of her head hit the thick trunk of an oak, which she used as leverage to scramble up to her feet.

She was gripping her daggers so hard her knuckles were hurting and she could feel the skin of her palms callusing, but none of it could compare with the violence of the scene she was witnessing. Her stomach churned at the sight of Cara hovering over the jawless body of that nude man… No, it wasn't a man anymore. It was now a hapless sack of bloody entrails thrown on top of the boulder that Kahlan had used as coverture.

She just stood there, frozen in that place between shock and confusion, back pressed against the rough bark of the tree as she watched the Mord'Sith jump off of the rock and toss the man's jaw to the dirt as if it was a useless twig. Cara turned to meet her eyes, chest heaving, a grin forming on her face; that gory, unemotional thing, just as before.

Then, it dawned on Kahlan.

Upon seeing the stricken look on the Confessor's face, that grin slowly faded from the Mord'Sith's own, the thrill of killing lessening as the blood cooled in her veins once more. Sallow eyes narrowed then, darting to the sides, nostrils flaring as she scanned the tree line for a moment before she looked back at Kahlan and spoke evenly, "We need to move."

But the woman just continued staring blankly at her. It was then that Cara caught the silvery glint of her blades flashing in the dimness as Kahlan methodically flexed her wrists, feet slowly drifting apart as she readied her stance.

An ominous silence fell upon the woods as their eyes locked in a battle that wasn't meant to be won by either of them. Five yards kept them apart from one another and shadows blurred the air in between. Still, Cara could see the regal lines of Kahlan's body perfectly, the hard set of her face framed by luscious, long dark locks, her chin raised in cold defiance and azure eyes that blazed a fiery warning. The Mother Confessor was in fact a mythical sight. How could she not be awed by such passion and beauty? How could she not want to devote her body and soul to this strong, fierce woman? Cara wondered, realizing that she had been the one trapped the whole time, for there was no escape from this, no escape from Kahlan. Sadly so, she just found out that there had never been a reason to run away from this fall.

Until _this_ happened.

Her lips twitched despite herself, the closest she would get to a genuine smile; a sad one that she was certain Kahlan wouldn't see.

Cara looked down at her hands, at the front of her torn leathers; no wonder Kahlan was staring at her like that. Without wasting any more time, she strode to where the pack had landed a few paces out of the diameter of the clearing, crouched by it and, after digging a water skin and a rag from the bottom of the pack, she began to scrub herself.

All the while she could feel the weight of that stare on her, boring on the back of her skull. When she was at last finished, she threw the bloody rag away and the emptied water skin back into the pack which she just then recognized as her own. Still sitting on her haunches, her back to the other woman, Cara brought her right hand to her left side, fingering the three deep scratches left there by the fellow she had just killed. He wasn't one of the biggest she had found, perhaps even the weakest for she had dismembered him in no time. Yet, he, and his companion before, had surprised her, managing to approach without being noted. Well, she was being dutifully distracted then.

As for her wounds, they were of no consequence, not even bleeding anymore. Lowering her fingers, she let them graze the Agiel still strapped to her left thigh. Her eyelids fluttered shut for a fleeting moment, her teeth gritting as she let out a ragged sigh. There was no pain at all.

The Mord'Sith stood quickly, pulling the Agiel off and shoving it into bottom of the pack to make company to its ineffective twin. She didn't need yet another reminder of what couldn't be remedied. She didn't want nor have the time to think about what was happening to her. Focus on the task at hand.

Thus, holding out the pack by one of its straps, she turned to face the Confessor, who had moved slightly around the tree, just a step to her right that would enable her to read Cara's movements better. Kahlan, having noticed the woman's abrupt rise, felt her guts twisting in knots; if out of fear or anything else she couldn't be precise at that moment. But, seeing that at least Cara's hands, chest and face were mostly cleansed of all that disgusting fluid provided her with the needed pause to breath. _The darker blood..._ A thought occurred to Kahlan then, but before she could elaborate it further Cara's voice cut in the night.

"Why are you not moving?" She asked gruffly, taking steps toward Kahlan, offering the pack to her.

"I should've known."

That caused the Mord'Sith's steps to falter. A furtive look to her right prompted Cara to continue on, though, if only for the two more paces that would bring her to stand in front of the boulder, blocking what view Kahlan had of it.

She parted her lips to remind Kahlan that they needed to get away from that place, that everything was going to be alright, but the Confessor had this far-away look in her eyes that made Cara's throat tighten, for what she could only manage a rough, "Known what?" as her eyes sought Kahlan's own in the near dark.

The Confessor met her gaze after a silence and spoke quietly, as if in a daze, "The Agiel I put in the pack, I… When you found me, it no longer burned at my back."

Cara lowered her eyes, saying nothing.

"Are you dead?" Came the strangled whisper.

The Mord'Sith's head snapped up, sallow eyes flashing inhumanly in the dark; sudden, irrational anger boiled in her veins at hearing the Confessor asking her that. Cara was seeing those things in Kahlan's eyes again and it opened the gate to set free all those confused emotions, the old and the new doubts that had been battling inside her all this time came forth to cloud her judgment.

Her still human side, a part of her Mord'Sith self, screamed for life, to feel the pain of it, while the bestial instincts inside her roared for release, thirsting of blood.

Kahlan's heart thundered in her chest as she saw the Mord'Sith let the strap of the pack slid from her ungloved fingers to land with a muffled thud on the ground, her head cocked to one side, eyes hooded in intense scrutiny.

She'd most likely asked the wrong question, judging by the menacing way Cara was approaching her, but she couldn't help thinking the worst; she had _held_ Cara's lifeless body, felt her still heart under her fingers before it miraculously started to beat again. Nevertheless, the Mother Confessor wouldn't just stand there like a frightened maiden and be intimidated by… whatever it was that the Mord'Sith had become.

And she was going to prove as much, but then the woman appeared before her out of the blue, nose almost bumping Kahlan's as she seized the brunette's right hand and yanked it up between their bodies to place the tip of the dagger just below her own pulse point.

Kahlan's eyes widened in shock and she instinctively tried to pull her arm back, but it was a useless act. She then let the other dagger fall to the dirt, wrapped the fingers of her free hand round Cara's offending forearm and tugged it down with all her might. It didn't budge one inch. Grunting in frustration, the Confessor slammed her fisted hand against the blonde's shoulder over and over also to no avail, and then, only to put more fuel on the fire of her jumbled emotions, the blonde snaked her right hand to grab Kahlan's hip, bringing their bodies flush together. The feel of the clawed, sharp tips of Cara's fingers digging into her flesh was quite... odd, and also painful, but not enough to make Kahlan stop. Though, the most infuriating was the smirk on Cara's face when the Confessor almost split her skull open against the trunk by trying to jerk away from the Mord'Sith's firm hold.

"You better have a long-lasting stock of this strength, because when it's no longer, you'll regret having put your hands on me, Mord'Sith." She spat on Cara's face before turning her head angrily, facing away from the Mord'Sith's probing eyes.

Kahlan knew threatening Cara now was futile, if not a dangerous way to go considering the narrow set of choices she had, and she didn't think Confession was one of them. But the thing was that she needed to get rid of these strange sensations starting to consume her body. As soon as the blonde pinned her against the tree, that overwhelming heat radiating off of her and those eerie eyes sought to drain the Confessor's mind of all rational thought. It was disconcerting to say the least, so Kahlan found it better to disguise it as anger; it didn't seem quite right to be feeling such things at a moment like this and she was certain _this_ Cara would laugh on her face if she let it show off.

"Oh but I think you just granted me that permission, Mother Confessor." Cara taunted her, searching for Kahlan's eyes. She chuckled darkly as the woman vainly kept struggling against her, a faint blush rising on her chest and cheeks as she insisted on avoiding the blonde's face. "Come on," She drawled, "I'm not going to bite you."

Kahlan scoffed at the cynical words; she was being toyed with and it made her _really_ furious. Looking sharply at Cara, she hissed venomously, "I'm not going anywhere with… whatever is it that you are now."

That seemed to hit the mark.

Yellow eyes stared intently at blue ones for what felt like forever before the Mord'Sith's grip on her flesh hardened just that little bit more to break skin, at the same time as she forced the sharp edge of the blade against her own.

Kahlan watched in bewilderment as the deep red line erupting from Cara's neck began to heal, the scar following the slow descend of the blade on her skin.

"As you can see," Cara growled, breath hot against slightly parted lips, then drawing her face back to look into dazed blue eyes, "I'm most certainly not dead."

With that, she let go of Kahlan's hand, next releasing her clutch on the brunette's hip. Other than that, she didn't move, enduring Kahlan's gaze with a mixture of trepidation and something else in her own.

The dagger slipped from Kahlan's fingers, forgotten to the ground as she, for the first time since the Mord'Sith had found her, looked back into completely unguarded eyes.

"I'm sorry, I just…" She trailed off, unable to put into words what she felt at that moment. Because even though the woman wasn't touching her anymore, she still could feel the heat of Cara's body which made it really hard to think about anything else. Plus, that strangeness in Cara's eyes perturbed her state of mind in ways she couldn't quite begin to decipher. Not even if she wanted to.

"I understand. I'm scaring you." The Mord'Sith said bluntly, meaning to back away but Kahlan stopped her mid-step, grabbing her forearm.

"No, I, I'm not scared of _you_. Never of you." The Confessor breathed, somewhat confused herself but hoping she was being evocative enough for both of their sakes.

Cara eyed her for a hesitant moment, then cast her eyes down and nodded. They stayed like that for an awkward stretch of silence before Kahlan started to fidget, her fingers still loosely wrapped around the Mord'Sith's forearm.

But then, when Cara finally looked back into her eyes, Kahlan's fingers clutched the firm muscle, as the air caught in her throat.

She was looking into that rich, dark green again.

So thrown off the Confessor was by the sight that she didn't immediately realize Cara lowering herself to one knee in front of her and, even when she did, words didn't seem to find their way to her lips. So, Kahlan just watched in quiet puzzlement as the woman took her daggers off the dirt and proceeded to reverently put one, then the other, back into the sheathes on her boots.

The Mord'Sith then placed her hands lightly on the outer sides of Kahlan's thighs, just where the boots ended, gazing up at her.

Cara knew it was dangerous to stay here any longer, but the more she told it to herself, the more the look in Kahlan's eyes conspired with the quietness to undermine all her certainties. Among all the strange things this woman made her feel along this last year, just one prevailed in this moment; the one that caused her heart to beat faster and her insides to ache, that moved that long forgotten part of her soul in ways nothing else ever did. Because she feared it, she had been fighting it. Yet, it remained there all the same, intact and laid perfectly bare before her eyes, clear and pure as the sparkling blue of these irises staring down at her now. Cara loved this woman, this Confessor. And in this space of time in which the night was no more, and the dark was giving birth to a new light, she knew that Kahlan loved her, too.

"Cara?"

"Yes."

"What are you doing?"

She was pressing her lips again to a particular scar on Kahlan's right thigh. She remembered it quite vividly now, the burning of skin, the locking of eyes. She didn't want to forget.

"I don't want to forget." Cara voiced her wish, closing her eyes as she kissed the mended skin over and over.

The act would've remained as innocent as that, if not for the hand slipping up between her legs, beneath the leathered flap of her skirt, the scraping of razor-sharp fingernails down her inner thigh with sufficient force to elicit a gasp from the Confessor.

Cara vaguely felt as a tentative hand touched her shoulder and a breathy voice said something, but she couldn't discern it from this _hunger _twisting her insides_._

She would never purposely hurt Kahlan, but something was changing within her. Cara knew it; she'd known something was different since the moment she woke up in Kahlan's arms back in the cave.

It just wouldn't stop. But _she_ had to. She couldn't lose control.

The Mord'Sith rose in a blur and violently sank her clawed fingers into the rough bark of the tree at each side of the Confessor's head. Her irises were back to that sickening yellow when Kahlan looked up into them and for a moment she thought she saw small fangs flashing between Cara's parted lips.

The blonde was breathing raggedly, seeking in the calming blue of Kahlan's eyes that one thing words wouldn't grant her with. Kahlan seemed to understand it and did nothing more than just look into Cara's eyes as the woman exerted herself out of it.

When the Mord'Sith's chest finally stopped shuddering with spasms, her breathing becoming quiet and easier, Kahlan simply wrapped her arms around Cara's waist and pulled the woman into her arms.

"How do you do this?" Cara husked after a while, face buried into the Confessor's neck.

"Do what?" Came the quiet question.

"Your scent." She clarified, chuckling against Kahlan's skin, "The barest hint of it set me on fire."

"Oh…" Kahlan breathed a nervous laugh, her arms loosening their hold on Cara's back the slightest, "Should I let you go… now?"

These words seemed to provoke an unexpected reaction from the Mord'Sith, for she noticed the woman's body tensing up against her own. Yet, a moment later, Kahlan felt warm hands touching the sides of her neck, Cara's breath caressing the aching side of her face as she whispered close to the Confessor's ear, "Is that what you want?"

Kahlan couldn't even begin to name the things she wanted to do with Cara right now. But there it was all the same; the question under the question. Her heart and her head were fated to battle eternally it seemed.

"Do you think I have a choice in the matter?"

_It's only fair_, Cara told to herself as she squeezed her eyes shut and laid her forehead onto the Confessor's temple, feeling Kahlan's arms leaving her body as she whispered against the corner of her mouth, "I would never hurt you." Then, she placed a hard kiss to Kahlan's bruised cheek and Kahlan's arms were empty.

Cara strode away from her, bent down to grab the pack from the ground and turned back to offer it to Kahlan, her face blank.

"Want to go for a ride?" She asked as the Confessor approached her with a strange look in her eyes that Cara didn't want to see. So, she threw the pack for Kahlan to catch it mid-air and turned her back to the woman.

She waited until Kahlan had the pack strapped to her back, then looked over her shoulder expectantly. To her consternation, the woman was staring fixedly at the boulder, thumbs hooked on the straps of the pack like she was deciding whether to keep it or not.

"Are you sure?" Kahlan asked quietly, still facing away from Cara.

The Mord'Sith gave the brunette a last glare before looking back to the trees ahead. "It will be much faster this way."

A moment later she heard steps, then arms were gingerly encircling her neck.

"Don't let me fall, because I'll bring you down with me." Kahlan grumbled into her ear, then she took one of Cara's hands and placed it lightly on the outer side of her right thigh.

Cara smirked, understanding.

She bent forward a little and Kahlan jumped onto her back, wrapping her long legs around Cara's hips. Well, it was by far the most undignified way a Mother Confessor ever traveled, but since she was currently in a remote dark forest infested by murderous creatures…

"You're quite a comfortable mount." She quipped.

Cara rolled her eyes, turning her head to get a peek at the Confessor's face. She liked what she found over her shoulder and promised herself to make that shy smile appear more times.

"Hold tight, Confessor." And with that, the Mord'Sith sped off into the awaking woods.

* * *

While he walked between the wooden benches that lined the outer hall of the Monastery, the first timid shafts of sunlight coming from the small dormers sited high on the arched ceiling guided his way toward an ebony door at the bottom of the austere room.

The Wizard let his gaze scan the tiled floor while he strode warily, noticing as its dichromatic decorative motifs were dulled by a thick layer of dust, dry leaves and encrusted blood.

The place was of considerable size, having the likeness of a military fortress with enough quarters to house over a two hundred people, counting with the accommodations of the second floor.

Though, it was the picture of desolation now.

A couple of paces more and he was facing the door, reaching for its ringed handle, but the Wizard faltered momentarily as his thoughts reeled back to the last evening.

As was to be expected, Richard had valiantly tried to focus on solving their newest mischance, but when Zedd left him, knowing that his grandson's heart was heavy with disillusion as well as with concern for Kahlan, his throat had felt awfully tight. Then again, there hadn't been so much to say, more so because Zedd had a rather fair guess about what or, rather, who might be the target of the repressed anger he saw in Richard's eyes. Though, leaving him, as dangerous a decision as it seemed at that moment, had been required after all. He needed to gather answers and, the soon he got them, the soon he could go back to his little makeshift family to try and make sure that those three stubborn heads wouldn't end up hurting one another even more than it was likely bound to happen.

With a weary sigh, the Wizard forced these distressing thoughts to the back of his mind, then gripped the iron ring and pushed the heavy door open.

As it was, the last year had taught him well the feel of this kind of dark magic, the one that he had been tracking and now sensed, if still eerily faint, coming from the middle of the smaller room. He remembered enough of the past to not discard the possibility of such trouble being unleashed from a place like this; though, since he left this side of the boundaries carrying a tiny Richard with him, that knowledge had been put aside along with his old life here in the Midlands. For all he knew then, the Monastery of L'aeb had always inspired wraithlike tales since its foundation forty-five years ago, and not only because its walls sheltered a mysterious brotherhood of ascetic monks known for their severe regime of labor – in fact, the Order was respected for that, if mostly out of fear – but because of the rumors that the monks were involved with the forbidden sorcery buried under its foundations. Still, Zedd had hoped that the survivors' nonsensical rambles about the monks and a reopened rift were just a coincidence.

But, unfortunately this time, his intuition proved to be literally in the right place.

Stepping past the doorway, the Wizard's eyes zeroed in on the tall cloaked figure standing in front of an altar in the middle of the torch-lit chamber, hooded head bowed as if in silent prayer.

Zedd didn't need to see a face to know who it was.

"Why am I not surprised to find you here?"

"Raptors always follow the smell of carrion." The thinly veiled insult didn't get past the Wizard, who straightened his back as the man slowly turned to face him, a cruel smile curling his lips as he leered, "You, of all people, should know that, First Wizard."

"It was true, then. Panis made it." Zedd sobered, not giving in to the provocation as he stepped further into the room, eyes locked with the blue ones of a viper.

"Yes, he did," Rahl said at length. "And actually, this can be the only chance we'll ever get to appreciate my Father's grandest accomplishment, so you understand why I couldn't just let it pass by," He mocked, finally removing the hood off of his head.

Then Rahl took a measured step forward, the movement revealing a streak of red velour embroidered with gold underneath the long black cloak he wore. It was the formal attire of the Lord Rahl, though the naked arms gave him a more insouciant air. Even so, Zedd knew better than to think they were the only presences in the place.

"So, the great Zeddicus came for a small taste too, I imagine." Rahl mused with false innocence after a moment of studying the stern expression on the Wizard's face.

Already resigned, Zedd braced himself for the battle to come and walked toward the center of the chamber.

"I needed to see the scope of the damage first." He came to stand beside Rahl and in front of the altar, seeing by the corner of the eye as Rahl turned toward the structure once more.

The Wizard could still feel icy eyes scrutinizing him, searching for the smallest crack on his façade. Well, it wasn't going to be that easy.

"First, indeed." Rahl conceded after yet another calculated silence, smirking as his gaze drifted to the squared object at which the Wizard was wordlessly staring.

The altar was the heart of the Monastery. It reminded Zedd of a pulpit, though the solid form looked strikingly more like an overgrown red tiger eye stone, and it was ornate with a lone silver chalice that was placed on top of the polished surface. He figured that such enormous thing could've only been conjured in this room with the aid of powerful magic, since this kind of rock was hardly found by these parts of the Midlands, let alone this big and with such impeccable aspect. Though, now, it was stained with blood and scarred by two long, vertical cracks that split the massive block in three uneven parts. A well-known green glow could be seen flickering through the clefts; it would fade out completely for a few seconds, and then slowly enkindle again like the beating of an agonizing heart.

"It's beautiful, don't you think?" Rahl commented idly, peering at the empty chalice. It had likely been filled with blood or something akin, judging by the dark crimson fouling its fund.

Zedd sighed irritably. "I'm assuming you already know that those demons escaped from the Underworld," He paused, glaring at Rahl as he added, "Using this!" while pointing a bony finger at the cleaved altar.

"Now, why should I worry about that?" Rahl smiled unkindly, without sparing him a look.

Zedd could only stare at the man in bafflement. He knew Darken Rahl was a cold blooded tyrant, but he would never be prepared to see how much of an empty shell the fallen sovereign of D'Hara had become. Part of him actually pitied this man, for he never had the chance to escape the stigma of the House of Rahl, like Richard had. No. Darken was never meant to escape, and because of that he was like that deviant child, always circling the rim of the well, thirsty, but never daring to touch the waters, for it would deface the semblance of life reflected there, a life he could only dream of. If he dreamed at all.

Shaking these thoughts off, Zedd sighed, this time in resignation as his gaze followed Rahl's to the chalice.

"I'll talk to Shota, I believe my and her powers combined will be sufficient to seal these ones," He theorized, and then saw as the green glow shimmered wildly through the clefts, as if contesting his words. "And once the veil is ultimately restored, we will blast those demons right back to their pit," Zedd finished and turned to leave the room, but faltered at hearing Rahl clacking his tongue, clearly defying his logic.

"Do you really think things can be so predictably solved?"

Zedd did stop at that. He sighed heavily before whirling back to face Rahl, who gave him a flimsy smile as he teased, "I've heard that there have been some attacks in the forests of Domar. Somebody's missing?"

"If I didn't know about the current… malaise between you and the Keeper, I'd bet my powers you were behind this."

Rahl laughed, a long, rich sound that echoed forebodingly in the quiet chamber.

"I'd like to have that card up my sleeve," He said as he started to walk leisurely toward the doorway. "But, I shall ease your mind, Zeddicus. I'm just as interested in putting an end to this mess as you are." Then, coming to stand shoulder to shoulder with the Wizard, he leaned in as if to share a secret, "In fact, though not so obvious, this can have quite a simple solution. But I don't think my dear brother would be so willing to make an attempt this time."

Rahl gave him an odd look before resuming his way past Zedd, who turned to watch the man disappear through the doorway. The Wizard suddenly felt a pressing urge to follow his demoralizing interlocutor, and when he sensed the ill-omened presences coming out of the shadows as soon as Rahl exited the chamber, he did exactly that. Zedd didn't have time to worry about them now, though; if they were here to subdue him, they would have done it already, wouldn't they?

So, he concentrated his attention on Rahl, who kept walking calmly in the direction of the main gate.

"Richard overcame the Keeper's minions more than once, he will succeed again," Zedd called after him, coming to a halt after crossing the threshold. Just then, the two Mord'Sith that had been at his heels shouldered their way past him. A moment later, another surged from somewhere behind him, this one a tall brunette with piercing blue eyes that gave the Wizard an enigmatic glare after nearly toppling him over with a bump of her shoulder and continuing on toward her Sisters and Lord.

Zedd blinked, momentarily startled by the other Mord'Sith's sudden appearance, then saw as Rahl stopped as well, turning regally to stand under the streaks of multicolored sunlight that filtered through a rectangular, stained glass window on the eastern wall of the Monastery.

As the Mord'Sith approached Rahl, Zedd noted that the one who gave him that strange look stayed by his right side, while the other two blondes went to stand a little far behind, near the gateway. A good six strides separated him from Rahl and the Mord'Sith, but it was starting to feel quite overwhelming to Zedd now that the standoffish women were in full view.

"Yes, I share your faith in my brother," said the man, smiling condescendingly. "But I have a guess that Richard won't be so eager to sacrifice his humanity now that he can finally be with the woman he loves."

The Wizard narrowed his eyes at that, taking an almost involuntary step forward.

Rahl's smile grew malicious. "Don't make that face at me," He taunted, "Rumors of the Seeker and Mother Confessor's impending marriage have crossed the territories already and I'm quite sure there's a finger of a certain Wizard in the whole spreading word matter."

Zedd didn't bother to address Rahl's snide comment; he had far more pressing issues to deal with as of now.

"What do you mean 'sacrifice his humanity'?" He asked, his suspicions only increasing as Rahl just continued to look at him with that inscrutable expression on his face.

"Well, I'm just putting the pieces together." Rahl said after a moment far too long for Zedd's taste, his gooey tone getting on the Wizard's nerves as he went on, "My dear brother gave the original Stone of Tears to the Keeper and now this is happening. Personally, I think that freeing those ghastly monsters now is more proof of his desperate state than anything else," A pause, "He must be in a wrath, though." This last bit caused his eyes to sparkle with sadistic satisfaction and, as he continued to speak, the malevolently serene sound of his voice felt as if tendrils of dread were crawling up Zedd's spine.

"So, as it is, someone will have to go down there and get that stone back from my former Master. Otherwise, the blasted demon will always be tempted to use its powers to cause us more trouble," He reasoned, a forefinger tapping his lower lip as he made a pensive face. "Don't you think it just that Richard should be this someone?" Rahl mused, his head tilting forward in mock suspense.

He had but to wait a moment for the bait to be bitten.

"I will do it," Zedd declared without hesitation.

Of course the old fool would play the martyr in order to spare the skin of the little bastard. Darken Rahl took a long, deep breath, letting it out in a rough exhale; patience was never one of his strongest suits.

"Now, that would be a tremendous stupidity, Zeddicus, not to mention a waste of your remarkable talents," Rahl chided lightly, barely avoiding rolling his eyes at his own act. "What's more, Richard would never let his beloved grandfather take on the burden of his own mistake."

Zedd's eyes flicked unconsciously between Rahl and his flanker Mord'Sith before he spoke with what, he hoped, was a confident voice, "I see where you're trying to get to, Rahl. I won't allow that to happen." With that, the Wizard took a deliberate step backwards, his fingers moving furtively by his sides under the cover of the long sleeves of his robes.

However, the Wizard had given away his intentions and the Mord'Sith, anticipating his move, took a swift step forward to stand in front of Rahl with her right hand poised to deflect.

"Berdine," The tone of his voice was soothing, in a way, and the woman lowered her hand almost immediately, stepping back to her position by her Lord's side once again.

It threw Zedd off a little to say the least, for the other Mord'Sith hadn't moved from their statuesque postures behind Rahl; they didn't seem at all fazed by the whole scene, and the one who did only did so with the intent to defend Rahl from a possible threat.

_Something's not right here,_ Zedd thought to himself. But then Rahl began to speak again and things turned even more ambiguous.

"Only those demons can reach that deep in the Keeper's dominions. Your sacrifice would be in vain."

"I know all too well your misguiding ways," Zedd spoke in a harsh tone, taking a restrained step back. "Don't you dare think–"

"But you're _not_ listening, Zeddicus." Rahl cut him off, his demeanor loftier, though for that alone more menacing than before, and for the first time Zedd felt true fear as the man stepped forward and smiled, his cold gaze wandering about for a brief moment in clear sign of displeasure, before boring on the Wizard's once more as he went on, "If you, or even Richard, were to try and get to the Underworld's lowest grounds, what do you think would happen next? No living soul can, not the mighty Seeker, not the most powerful Wizard. Only those wretched souls can. They came from there, after all."

Zedd blinked as understanding started to dawn on him. Rahl was right, of course. But still, it seemed too much of a fluke to find him here. However, before he could think of a way to lessen his doubts without being so apparent, Rahl continued with his speech.

"The Keeper may be, well, a little effete. But he's not a fool. He knew the Seeker would attempt to enter his dominions again to try and relieve him from his last trump, so he got the stone to the very dejected pit from where the demons were called."

"And how would you know that?" Zedd asked suspiciously. If this was a bluff, he had to know what Rahl truly intended to get by using it now.

Rahl waved a dismissive hand. "I had one of my Mord'Sith sent to the Underworld to learn it from the Keeper himself."

Zedd let out a snicker, if only for the sake of seeing the barely disguised deride on the brunette Mord'Sith's face.

"You don't expect me to believe that what you say is the truth, do you?"

Rahl shrugged, unapologetic. "You'll have to take my word for that."

The Wizard shook his head. "So, let's see if I got you right. You're saying that we have to convince one of those beasts to creep back into their cage, where they are supposed to win the stone from their own Master and still be able to return to the living world to deliver it to whom? _You_?" Zedd concluded before huffing an incredulous laugh as he threw his hands up. "Wherever in the Creator's name have you lost your wits?"

This time Rahl did roll his eyes at the Wizard's inappropriate manners; these were serious business they were discussing here, after all.

"Tell me, Wizard," Darken Rahl leered, "Did Richard happen to get hurt by the creatures?"

"What? No." Zedd responded, maybe a little too fast. He admonished himself before inquiring, "Why?" His eyes narrowed in suspicion as Rahl smiled wickedly at his perceived slip.

"What a pity, then. He could be the only one with the requirements to achieve such feat." Rahl looked like he was pretty much enjoying the indignant face the Wizard put on at hearing his words.

"You play games with me, Darken Rahl." Zedd accused him.

"We play our own games, Wizard. You and I," Rahl's cold tone left no doubt about what he was referring to. "This round, I have the knowledge and you wield the tool. I'll tell why Father decided to eradicate the Karmadee, as he called them. But I'm only doing so to my dear brother Richard."

* * *

**To be continued...**


	6. Chapter 6

**Word Count:** 3,353

**A/N1: **See the previous chapters for disclaimers.

**A/N2: **My gratitude to Cloud Auditore Fair, my lovely beta.

**A/N3: **No, it's not the end yet. Just a Kahlan/Cara interlude or, if you like, a prelude to the final installment. I think they deserved this moment because, considering what is to come, it had to happen now. Be warned, the mystery shall pass, but the angst...

* * *

**Survivor **

**- VI -**

"I thought we were going out of the forest," Kahlan said breathlessly, jumping off Cara's back as the woman came to a halt in front of an unassuming set of trees.

She was still a little disoriented by the speed with which the Mord'Sith had moved through the woods, but whilst the blonde ran in loops, twisting directions to avoid the thick branches and muddy puddles, the Confessor noticed that Cara was heading to that trail alongside the rocky face, though it seemed farther to the north now, past the area where they had been sheltered before.

"It's dawning," The Mord'Sith said, turning to Kahlan. "I want to show you something," She made a solemn face, offering her hand to the Confessor.

Kahlan bit back a beaming smile as she took Cara's hand in her own; it seemed to be a serious matter for Cara and she didn't want to risk erasing this absurdly charming look of concentration on the blonde's face.

She nodded and let Cara guide her through the trees until they were facing a narrow stretch of the flat stony wall. Kahlan looked at Cara, her nose crinkled as she let out a soft, doubtful noise.

"Look again," The blonde tilted her head and Kahlan did as she said.

And there it was. The wall was, in fact, double-faced, one of the walls being a little farther than the other in just the right measure to cause the illusion that it was an even face.

Her eyebrows arching in surprise, Kahlan turned to the Mord'Sith again. "When did you find it?"

But Cara only gave her an unreadable look as she tugged at the Confessor's hand. "Come inside," Said the woman as she stepped toward the unseen crevice, Kahlan following close behind; she decided she would prod the Mord'Sith to talk about this later, for now she was just too curious to see what the woman had to show her.

At first the vertical opening was indeed narrow and a little low, so that they had to walk with their heads bowed through the humid, rock-strewn tunnel that seemed to delve deeper into the earth itself at each step they took. About ten paces later Cara turned left and Kahlan with her into a smoother corridor. It was still dim, but slightly warmer and wider in there which provided them with the space to walk upright and side by side.

There were speckles of light at the end of the corridor and, as she looked at Cara in quiet amazement, Kahlan caught the blonde's eyes flashing in a darker shade before she gazed onward again, fingers softly squeezing the Confessor's in a sign for Kahlan to continue on.

When they reached the bottom of the passage, Kahlan felt that fluttering feeling inside her belly increasing.

Hand to hand, they walked a little ways down to the bank formed by those same tiny black pebbles that seemed to cover the whole of the grotto's ground, Cara watching as Kahlan's eyes drifted up looking for the source of the light. The fissure on the east section of the high ceiling looked like a big waning moon and the pale streaks of sunlight it filtered danced placidly above the surface of a lagoon of crystal waters that lapped softly near their feet. Though, something else seemed to catch Kahlan's attention as the woman let her gaze wander around the rapturous place. A small content smile curled the corners of the Mord'Sith's lips; she knew the Confessor would recall the view.

"They look like the morons' little heads," She spoke quietly, eyes drifting to the tiny spots that sparkled seemingly everywhere.

'They' happened to be small blue gemstones encrusted in the dark walls of the grotto, speckled among the black pebbles on the ground, shimmering in the bottom of the lagoon.

"It's beautiful," Kahlan breathed as she turned to meet Cara's eyes, staring at the woman in awe for a long moment. Then, she surprised Cara by pressing a languid kiss to her cheek before whispering against the corner of her mouth, "_You _are beautiful." Drawing back a little, the Confessor saw Cara's eyes closing in rapture and smiled to herself. Her Mord'Sith had a tender heart.

"My Mord'Sith," She tasted the words, wishing with all her heart that they were true. "Are you yet?" She murmured, her tone somewhat frantic now as her arms encircled Cara's waist and she pressed her forehead to the other woman's.

She felt Cara's long lashes tickling against her skin while they breathed the same air for several charged heartbeats, and then strong hands were grabbing the sides of her face to bring their lips crashing together.

It was raw, feverish and Kahlan wouldn't have had it any other way. This kiss was meant to be a mark; Cara's on her and hers on Cara.

"I am," The blonde husked when they parted after a long moment, her eyes still shut. "I am, but, you mustn't be so near… like this." She didn't know if it was the kiss or this beast inside her, maybe it was both, for she felt like her insides had been torn apart and then melted, just to be remolded once more into the Confessor's arms. Her mind was spinning dangerously out of control and she couldn't do a single thing about it but cling to her damnation – Kahlan's embrace.

"I know," Kahlan breathed, sniffling a bit.

That made Cara's eyes snap open.

"Did I hurt you?" She asked, frowning. The Confessor's lips were reddish, but she didn't taste any–

"I want you to," Kahlan's voice cut through the fog in her mind like a scorching blade would to her flesh, the hoarse tone of it drawing up the Mord'Sith's ravenous eyes.

The darkened irises staring back at her sucked the air right out of Cara's lungs; she swallowed hard the sweet flavor of those words.

"You shouldn't say such things," The Mord'Sith managed after a moment, breathing sharply through her nostrils as she looked back into the pits of black that threatened to wipe away her very existence.

"Cara, I just confessed you."

Her grip on the Confessor's head slackened a bit. Cara looked dumbly at the woman for a stretched silence before mumbling, "No, you didn't."

"But I did," Kahlan reaffirmed softly, a shy smile touching her kiss-bruised lips as a tear rolled down the corner of her eye. Cara caught the tiny drop with the pad of a thumb before it fell.

They stared at each other for yet another draw out silence, then the blonde's voice echoed slyly in the grotto, "You dared."

This time it was the melodious sound of Kahlan's laugher that filled the place. "You deserved it," She chided playfully, her irises fading back to that limpid blue that Cara had come to adore. Briefly, she wondered which version was more enticing; in this moment, she decided it was the blue.

The blue she was about to taint with crimson.

"I did." Cara replied, blinking as if realizing something, her voice almost inaudible as she spoke, "I failed you."

But Kahlan heard it still; she hated it that Cara seemed to always misunderstand her words. Or perhaps it was she who never made herself clear enough.

"Look at me," Kahlan called when she caught the blonde's eyes lowering. As Cara looked back into her eyes, if she found the naked insecurity reflected in those eerie eyes of hers the most endearing thing, she kept it to herself.

Lifting her hands she cupped the sides of the Mord'Sith's face, shivering as the woman let her own slid down her waist to rest just above her hipbones, then spoke with as much seriousness as she could muster, "You did not fail me, Cara. You saved me."

"But I–"

"No buts," Kahlan interrupted her, shaking her head in earnest. "I asked that of you before, just as I am asking you now, because I trust you. I have for a long time." Kahlan said these words with such intensity that it struck the Mord'Sith into silence. She held Cara's dumbfounded gaze, looking deeply into her eyes as she carried on with her admissions, "Since that day with my Father, and after, what happened in Dunshire… I couldn't make myself stop. I slept and woke, walked and fought by your side, always thinking – thinking of you, about impossible things. I've come to realize how much you mean to me, but… I, I didn't understand it then, or maybe I just fooled myself so. I can't ignore these feelings now any less that I can't bear the thought of losing you and I know that you care for me enough not to leave me behind." She paused, smiling knowingly at the Mord'Sith, "So, if _this_ is what it will take for us to be together, then hurt me."

She endured Kahlan's devastating stare until she could no more.

Cara broke.

And as she did, everything fell into place; fitting as their bodies did, making sense of all the chaos that she had suddenly found herself thrown into. Never before in her life had Cara pictured such a scene, a Mord'Sith crumbling into the arms of a Confessor. But it was easy with Kahlan, this woman who was holding her for dear life, one arm around her shoulders and the other pulling her head to her while she cried onto her shoulder.

Kahlan could feel the viselike grip on her waist pulling their bodies together in a tight embrace, at the same time as if trying to keep that smallest, necessary space between them.

"I brought you here so you could bathe while I went out to find you something to eat," Cara grumbled after a time, voice tickling on her skin, "And here I am, weeping like a helpless infant," She finished lamely.

Kahlan couldn't help but find it peculiarly endearing that Cara thought she was the one who needed a bath.

"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone that the fearsome future head of my army has the softest of the hearts, especially when she's weeping all over me in the most inappropriate times," She whispered close to Cara's ear, the mischief barely veiled in the undertones of her voice.

Cara chuckled despite herself, though she pinched Kahlan on the side not so lightly, making the brunette loose a yelp followed by a delightful fit of laughter. She wiped at her face, mulling over the Confessor's words in her head and, when she thought she was at least presentable, the Mord'Sith lifted her head to look intently into blue eyes as she said, "Nothing in this world would make me more honored and proud than to serve you, Mother Confessor."

With that, she backed away from Kahlan's arms, watching as the woman parted her lips as if to say something, her forehead crinkling in confusion.

"I'll be right back," Cara spoke before the woman had the chance.

Then she was gone.

* * *

Kahlan sat on a smoothed rock near the grotto's wall, still frowning upon the sudden change of the Mord'Sith's attitude. They'd shared an intense moment, it was true, and then things sobered, if only a bit, but clearly something else was troubling the other woman. Kahlan felt as if she couldn't quite grasp it, even though she had an idea as to what. The thing was that she didn't know what to do to help Cara with this. She couldn't even begin to understand what it was like to Cara to be suffering this... transformation. Yes, it was noticeably a transformation, though to what exactly they were still to discover. It seemed she was becoming one of those creatures that had attacked them yesterday afternoon in the meadow and again in the forest, but it didn't quite make sense.

The Wizard was likely to know what was happening to Cara, she mused with a sigh, tugging off her second boot.

Things had taken in an unexpected turn since the Pillars of Creation, but Kahlan didn't regret any of it. Her feelings for Richard had been changing since before she first got in touch with her odd thoughts toward their Mord'Sith companion, who seemed to always be watching her with naked curiosity, and lately with an almost sadness in her green eyes. To Kahlan, time had changed her suspicions into something even more dangerous, a disconcerting and constant need to be near the blonde; that was when she knew there was no turning back.

Kahlan wasn't afraid to acknowledge this, not anymore. Her duty to Richard would remain the same if so he accepted her, just as it had been from the start when she and her sister had left the safety of their home in order to find the one true Seeker, prepared to be his protectors and advisors. Thinking of Dennee troubled Kahlan more; it wasn't going to be easy to explain this to her little sister, but the Creator knew she would not relinquish Cara, even more so in this moment when the woman needed her the most.

But that conversation would come in time. Standing up, the Confessor began to unlace her front, her thoughts drifting back to their shared moment. Kahlan could still feel the aftereffects, the warmth pooling low in her belly, between her thighs. The way her body reacted to Cara's touch, even now, amazed her. And then, there was the way Cara's body reacted to her touch; Kahlan just couldn't find the words to describe how this made her feel and, even if she could, they would be needless anyway. It was simply too powerful, like the strike of lightning in the stormy skies, yet it felt deeply peaceful like the waters of the lagoon she was staring at.

She smiled at the thought of Cara being so attentive as to grant her this gift. Bringing her to this place had been a way the gruff woman found to appease Kahlan's fondness for romantic gestures, even if she hadn't acknowledged it with words. Then again, she learned long ago that the Mord'Sith had a different way to demonstrate affection. Cara would do so by offering a hand in unexpected times and tasks, insisting on taking her watch when Kahlan wasn't even that tired, bringing her more berries than she could eat for the morning.

As if conjured by her thoughts, the echoes of steps made Kahlan's smile widen. True to her word, the Mord'Sith was back soon. Too soon, indeed.

She had her back to Cara when the woman entered the grotto, light steps sounding as if she had been running and just then coming to a halt. Her jacket was on the ground and she was on the process of unbuckling the large belt around her waist as she turned to Cara. Her smile faltered when the blonde met her eyes with that sad glint in her own. But just as she saw it, the Mord'Sith averted her gaze and crouched, digging some contents from Kahlan's pack as she did.

Cara cleared her throat, casting her eyes to the small bundle in her hands before speaking, "The plums and bread are good, not the cheese. And I found some berries." Then, still avoiding the Confessor's eyes, she placed the package on the ground before she rose with a water skin in one hand, sallow eyes looking for her own pack which she found lying near Kahlan's boots by the wall.

Kahlan watched as the woman retrieved the other water skin from her pack and then went to the margin to refill them, not a single moment looking towards her while the Confessor freed herself from her underclothes. Once Cara was done with her self-imposed task, she rose but kept her back to Kahlan, eyeing the clear waters as if she was trying to heat them by force of will alone, so intense was her stare.

Cara heard the woman's approach and didn't dare look back.

"Did you find my bath soap in there?" Came the voice from behind her shoulder, too near and yet so far.

"Yes." Cara replied curtly, hands clutching the dripping water skins. She then spun around, eyes casting about as she circled Kahlan and went to pick the blasted thing. Her hands were trembling as she fumbled with the pack. _Get a hold of herself, for Keeper's sake._

"Here's your– Kahlan!" Cara barked, one hand flying up to cover her eyes as she stuck the other towards the brunette. She heard a chuckle and huffed, annoyed by Kahlan's blatant teasing. "You're doing this on purpose," She groused, then felt as slender fingers wrapped around her thrusting wrist, before more fingers did the same to the one across her face.

"As if you haven't seen me naked before," Kahlan goaded her, tugging at the blonde's wrists, but Cara was nothing if not stubborn.

Feigning resignation, she let out a long-suffering sigh before snatching the soap from Cara's splayed hand.

Well, it had been too easy.

Cara peered through her fingers, suspicious; that was her mistake.

But, really, who would know that the Mother Confessor was this devious?

Sitting with one knee slightly lifted, her other leg extended on the ground being lapped by the languid waters as she leaned back on her elbows, Kahlan tilted her head back and closed her eyes under the warm rays of sunlight. All fair skin, muscled thighs, round breasts, luscious hair. Just… breathtaking.

Momentarily robbed of her ability to form coherent thoughts, Cara could barely suppress a moan at the sight of Kahlan like this.

"Shouldn't you get deeper inside the water?" She meant it to be an offhanded comment, but the roughness in her voice told Kahlan the exact opposite.

The Confessor turned idle eyes to meet hers, blue irises sparkling under the natural light as she drawled, "Surely I'm not the one who's in need of a cold bath right now."

Cara's nostrils flared as a jolt of arousal shot through her body. The woman was asking for it? Damn, she was going to give it to her.

She yanked and tugged at torn leathers and dirtied laces, eyes locked with the woman's laid on the ground three paces from her. It was too far a distance.

One moment she was watching the Mord'Sith struggling to relieve her feet from the boots, the other Kahlan found herself looking into hungry yellow eyes. The blonde hovered over her body, having appeared out of the sudden on top of hers. Yet Cara didn't lay a single finger on her, just settled herself between the Confessor's legs, staring the breath out of Kahlan for what felt like an eternity of skipped heartbeats.

"You're sure?"

She admired the Mord'Sith's restraint, but in this moment Kahlan wished nothing more but to lose herself to Cara's passion.

"Make me yours, Cara." She breathed, and then lips were on hers.

Taking and giving.

* * *

**To be continued…**


End file.
